


DnDecember 2018

by Verdic



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 26,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdic/pseuds/Verdic
Summary: This is a collection of my works from DnDecember 2018. The first chapter (this one) is going to be the Index. It will also tell you what order to read them in.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter Index---

Chapter 1. Favorite D&D memory, my first character and game

Fractured Moon Series: Chapters 2 - 13

Continued Rumil and Larkin stories: Chapters 14 - 16

The Guardians: Chapters 17 - 31


	2. Magic of Memories

Richard was one of the worst warriors that had ever existed. This was my first character I had ever played, and I did a dungeon run with my father. He was a D&D basic fighter with average stats, no modifiers at all, and 1 hit point at level one. He was teamed up with a magic-user, played by my dad, with three hit points at level one. Richard was my first character and he made it out of his first dungeon. Together, the magic user and him would cast sleep on a group of enemies and slit their throats. They would then wait for 8 hours till the magic user could recharge his one spell. When they got to second level, the magic user had 7 total hit points, and Richard grew to a paltry 3 hit points. The magic user was using 1D4 hit dice, while the fighter was used 1D10 hit dice. It got to the point that the fighter started using the magic user as a meat-shield. We had so much fun with these characters and couldn’t stop laughing at how pathetic my first character was. This is what got me into D&D. I wasn’t the heroic fighter, or the devoted cleric, a powerful wizard, or a clever rogue. I was a pathetic, cowardly, weak fighter. It was so much fun playing this character that I didn’t want to stop playing. So thank you Richard, for being the weak little thing you were.


	3. The Mimir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a character who I play in my game Fractured Moon. He is a homebrew race based on Morte from Planescape: Torment.

The room was dark and still, but that was of no importance to the being known as Al. He, at least he could remember being a he, was sitting on the mantlepiece of the unlit fireplace. He had it on good information that some merchants were going to be meeting here tonight, and he was willing to wait for them. The cold was also of no concern to him. Nothing was really much of a concern when you were a sentient skull. 

He could remember a time when he was not a sentient skull, but that was centuries past. Now, he was just a skull with a personality, a ton of knowledge crammed somewhere in him, and a need for vengeance against those who take advantage of the helpless. 

Despite not having any physical concerns, there were some concerns that often weighed him down. Surprisingly, being a construct of only a skull was not on that list. He had come to terms with that in the first few seconds of existence. His primary concerns were as follows: why did he only have one hand, why couldn’t he use it to actually attack anything, which was very annoying for someone who fought for a living (he chuckled at his choice of words), and how best to help care for his new godsdaughter Ianthe. 

Fighting tyranny and those who cheat others fit well for him. It meant a safer world for his new family and it fit with the tenants of his patron, Mad Max. Despite not having any skin, he smiled to himself. 

A few minutes later, the group of merchants came into the room. Al wasn’t sure what they were talking about for most of the meeting, the economics and math going well over his head. Maybe he would think on this later when he had the time to puzzle it out. As the meeting wore on, he realized that, despite not understanding most of the jargon, he did understand that they were driving up food prices despite a good harvest the previous year and all auguries showing that the next year would be good as well. 

With no proof of further wrongdoing, there wasn’t too much Al could do other than alert the normal authorities. There was more than enough evidence for some of the larger merchants to get them arrested. He decided to wait, as most people tended to be terrified of a small skull floating around. 

When it seemed that the meeting was over, the merchants started lighting candles and placing them around the room. They started drawing symbols all around the room. Al easily recognized the sigils as Infernal. They were setting up to pray to the spirits of fortune and use a connection to the Nine Hells to make their prayers even stronger. That was enough for Al to take a hand in this matter (again, another chuckle for his choice of words). 

They prayer’s stopped as they all heard the negative energy projected laughter. The merchants looked around, unsure where the laughter was coming from. An unseen smile spread onto Al’s face. He used to be part of a death cult, so he knew how to scare people.

“Finally, I have been summoned.” Al intoned, trying to keep the mirth out of his voice.

“Master!” One of the merchants cried out. “We will have many souls this year willing to be claimed by you.”

“Excellent. And how soon will they be ready?” Al asked. 

“In but a few months.” The merchant replied. “And what about your end of the bargain?” 

“A few months? You know.” Al started floating above the mantel place. “I might just take my reaping of souls now, and save those people from being cheated.” He let his voice drop back to his higher pitched accent. “You have two options: First is to come with me and turn yourself in. I’m obligated to give you that option. The second is I get to slaughter all of you. The choice is yours. You can also choose individually. Those who want to surrender…” He paused as someone cast a quick spell. A beam of Necrotic energy slammed into him, dissipating against the infernal sigils carved into him. “As I was saying, those who want to surrender, get on the ground, hands behind your back, everyone else…” He clacked his teeth together, emphasizing the dragon fangs he had installed.

Half of the merchants immediately fell to the floor at the same instant the others drew daggers or summoned spell energy. 

Five minutes later, Al led a string of merchants, all tired at the wrist, out of the room and headed off towards the nearest guard house to turn them in. Blood dripped off Al as he led them through the streets. People ran into their houses, terrified that this apparition would take them as well. Al was used to this. Once he got his reward, he stopped off at the temple of Max to donate half of it to their humanitarian efforts. The other half he would bring home to help care for Ianthe, as he didn’t have any of his own physical considerations to think about. 

Smiling, waving to the frightened people as he passed, he realized that his problems really weren’t that bad, especially with a wonderful godsdaughter.


	4. The Vampire

Shiba looked back on his life as he took another sip of his drink. He had spent the majority of it as a lowly noble in the Steelen clan, the leadership of the Mirrored Kingdom. Now…now he was a soldier in the Stormkirk army. On officer at least, befitting his social rank, but still a soldier. He didn’t begrudge his new life. In fact, there were many perks.

The first perk was that he was much stronger, faster, and healthier than he had been before. He never had to fear about any diseases or common poisons. Plus, his new, lower status in the Stormkirks meant that he wasn’t at threat for assassination. 

The next perk was that he had been able to bring his childhood friend and crush with him. This caused a lot of confusion for him at first. The woman who had taken him encouraged him to bring his crush along with him, saying it would make the transition easier. At first, he felt it would only make his life harder, knowing the woman he had loved would always be with him, but out of reach. As they were leaving Steelen lands, he realized it would be even harder for Sasumi to come with him. She was leaving everything behind to be a handmaiden to him in a new land. 

The entire way from their home skyscraper in the City of Mirrors he held onto Sasumi. She had accepted coming with him, but the reality was finally hitting them. They were leaving their home for a different skyscraper. And not just a different one, but one with rumors that mothers told their children to make them behave. 

He smiled as he took another sip, remembering when they first saw his new wife. They had arrived there at night and she had come to him in her officer’s uniform, everything perfectly placed and laundered. Her skin was as pale and beautiful as newly fallen snow, her eyes a piercing gold. Her dark purple lips broke into a wide smile when she saw him. He purposefully looked into her eyes and not at her smile, his nerves failing him. 

“Welcome, Shiba and Sasumi, to your new home.” Her voice was a soft purr. Her Western was accented differently from the Steelen, as if her mouth was slightly fuller than most other people’s. “I know it will be a big change for you, but I hope you will find my home and your new lives comfortable.” She walked forwards and hugged each of them, gracing each of them with a gentle kiss. 

Shiba knew he was in love when she laughed at their confusion. The laugh was so warm and understanding. She explained that Sasumi was to be part of Shiba’s…he wasn’t quite sure how to think about it. The only word that came to mind was harem, but that didn’t fully encompass everything Shiba was to him. His new wife, Belladona, had informed him that all nobles in the Stormkirks had such harems. They were often only three to four people, but the maximum legally allowed was six. This limit was imposed to make sure that every noble was able to provide adequate care for those under their protection. She herself had three in hers, and two of them had come to help move any luggage Shiba had brought with him.

It was only later that he realized the harem wasn’t the right word. Harem often implied sexual relations with the master. After a few months in his new life, he realized that Belladona, nor any of the others they interacted with, used their harem in such as way. The full realization of what they were for only dawned on him a year after their marriage, when it was time for the full induction into her family. That was a night he wanted to forget but could never forget. Taking a final sip, he removed his mouth and leaned back. 

Sasumi reapplied the bandage to her neck and covered it up with her collar. “That wasn’t much tonight.” She said wanly.

“That’s because you aren’t feeling well. I can’t drain you as much as normal if you are starting to get sick.” Shiba ran a hand down her cheek.

“Maybe you should get someone else to take over then, because I am not going to let you starve.” She looked reproachfully at him. He smiled at her, his vampire’s fangs showing.

“And you promise not to be jealous?” She kissed his lips, still moist with her blood.

“Only a little, but I’m a big girl.” Sasumi chuckled. Shiba smiled back. This, he thought, was the last perk of being a vampire. He and his best friend and crush were now closer than they ever could have been before. “Besides, I also get a say, if you’ll remember.” She winked at him.

There was a sudden ruckus from outside of the coaching inn they were at. Running to the window, Shiba saw a horde of dretch assaulting the inn’s walls. Running back to his bed, he grabbed his lever-action rifle. “And now it’s my turn to protect your life.” They shared a quick smile as they settled into a familiar routine of sniper and spotter.


	5. Undead

Shiba looked around him at the juxtaposition of opulence and sparseness of his new wife’s suite. Everything in the room was the best quality around, from both the new world and the old world, but everything also had a distinct and common use. Nothing was there just for the sake of looking pretty. It was one of the most exquisite looking functional rooms he had ever seen. Every book on the shelves looked as if it had been read, some multiple times. 

“I know this must look absurd.” Belladona came up behind him, her hands gently resting on Shiba’s shoulders. “But trust me, we don’t take more than we need, in any aspect of our existence.” She placed a cool kiss on his neck, causing a shiver to run down Shiba’s spine and pulling a gasp of pleasure from his throat. 

“I…it does…I mean…It looks nice.” He said between gasps as she continued to worry at his throat. He felt her fangs grace his skin for an instant before she pulled away. The blush on his face grew as he looked over at his only companion from his past life. Sasumi was pointedly looking away, trying to hide a blush behind her fan. He felt a little guilty having such pleasure in front of the woman he used to have a crush on.

“I know you didn’t ask to be here.” Belladona’s voice was gentle. “This…marriage between us is one of political convenience and alliance. But I hope, that in time, you will come to love me and your life here.” Shiba looked up at her. She was slightly taller than him with pale skin shining against his darker dun colored skin. When he had first seen her, Shiba thought she was just someone who didn’t go out in the sun often. However, when she smiled, he could see the marks of her curse. Two long fangs hung from the top of her mouth, making her smile that of a predator. As his eyes travelled north, he saw her eyes had shimmering copper irises. Those eyes looking at him were not those of a predator, but those of an infatuated lover. 

“Does…does it hurt?” He asked, not sure what to say. He didn’t want to agree that he didn’t want to be here. It was his duty to be here, but he wasn’t going to make Belladona feel bad by resisting. It would be futile and counter-productive. 

“I would be remise in saying no. It hurts. Your body and mind will change. You will still be Shiba, but you will have a lust for blood and a different view on time and the world. When you first turn, we will give you something to drink from other than your companion here.” She turned to looked Sasumi over, taking in her whole form. “The first few times we feed we have almost no control, and we don’t want anyone to die.” She walked over and hugged the smaller woman. “I want you to be around for my husband for a very long time.” 

Shiba placed a hand on his new wife’s hand, so both of them had a hand on Sasumi’s shoulder. “That’s the one thing I don’t get.” Belladona looked at Shiba out of genuine interest to answer his question. Sasumi looked at him incredulously, unable to believe there was only one thing he had a question on. “How do these…harems work?”

Belladona bit her lower lip, almost as if she were a little embarrassed. “A vampire’s…a responsible vampire has a harem of living people whom they can occasionally feed from. These people all choose to be part of the harem. While feeding does breed a certain closeness, they are more like advisors and servants. The harem are well cared for, provided places to live and food, and even wages for their work. They still have their own minds, although they are sometimes distracted as the feedings change their priorities to more serve us.”

“What if they have children?” Sasumi asked nervously. Belladona smiled at her kindly.

“Though we can still enjoy sex, we cannot have children, and most vampires will not have sex with a mortal, more for their safety than anything. However, if someone in a vampire’s harem has a child, they can raise the child, and the wages they make are enough to help raise a child. The vampire has no claim over any children, as they have not entered into a contract with the vampire.” She caught herself and tutted, remembering she forgot something. “All who enter into a harem with a vampire also have to work out a contract with the vampire. This way the people in the harem also have their rights protected.” 

“So If I were to have a child, I could raise it and they could live their own life, even though I am part of Shiba’s harem?” Belladona nodded eagerly. 

“It may be a bit forward, but I almost hope you have at least one child. As vampires cannot have children in that way, we often like to dote on mortal children. It helps us keep our center.” She smiled, almost embarrassed at the confession. Sasumi nodded and smiled, looking at Shiba.

“I’m not going to have any children soon, but it’s good to know I can.” Turning back to Belladona, she asked. “So, when can you turn him?”


	6. Fighter specials

Norris strolled down the street, his gait one that he had perfected over years of what policemen know as proceeding. His blue uniform jacket was immaculate as it sat on him, not even the dust from the road getting it. His boots were a different story. They showed the wear and tear of the road, although they were still sturdy. He looked more like a military officer on parade rather than a guard captain patrolling like a normal guard. Even though he had paperwork, Ollie was small enough that he was able to patrol and still finish his work. 

His hands rested easily on his belt, not even on the two pistols holstered beneath his jacket. His deep green eyes scanned the town. Little happened here. It was a small town, almost a nothing posting. The only problems really came around Pie Week and other small festivals that tended to attract large crowds. Even though it was not exciting, for the most part, this was his home and he was glad to work here. 

His life had only gotten exciting when Lillia had fallen into his bed, and a few months later their daughter was born. He was still amazed with her life as an adventurer. She had only been pregnant four months before their lovely daughter was born. That had been nearly sixteen years ago. Right now, Lillia was off on another adventure, leaving Norris and Ianthe home. It wasn’t anything new, as she would leave for a few months at a time for adventures, but she was home more often than away. 

He was looking forwards to when she would be back when he heard shouting from the street over. It sounded different from the normally shouting to be heard, and even different from the rare, but still around, angry yelling. This sounded more threatening. Moving into a loping run, his saurian tail snaking out behind him. He quickly drew two of his pistols and rounded the corner. 

Standing in the street was a group of forty people, all in ragged looking armor. Most of them had crude blades and cudgels, as well as light crossbows. However, there were a few who had rifles and pistols as well. They were currently gathered around the front of one of the wood shops, harassing the proprietor and their family. 

“Everyone, weapons down!” Norris shouted, using his infernal heritage to make his aspect for fearsome. Some of the group looked shaken, but those holding guns looked to be made of sterner stuff. 

“Oh look, the local starch here to make sure we play nice. Stay out of things that aren’t your business.” The leader, armed with a lever action rifle, sneered at the Tiefling. Despite Norris being just under six feet if you included his horns, this man was taller by another half head.

“This whole town is my business. Leave here or face the consequences.” Norris kept scanning the crowd, glad for once that his eyes were a solid color with no landmarks, so they couldn’t seem him looking around at the group, sizing them up. As it was, he would be hard pressed to take them all down. He only had two dozen bullets loaded, plus an additional two dozen shots in his bandoleer belt and he would have to hit with all of them to take this group down. He was a good shot, but he knew that he wasn’t that good. 

Thinking himself clever, the leader of the group didn’t answer, but raised his rifle to fire. Faster than the eye could see, Norris drew two pistols and fired a round off from each, the first jamming the lever action rifle and the other hitting the man who was holding the proprietor. Leg muscles bunching, he propelled himself to the side, diving for cover. A round of bullets and quarrels flashes around him, cutting into his jacket and scoring his flesh. 

Popping up from cover, he fired off a few more rounds, knocking down more of what he realized were bandits. He realized in a moment that his position was untenable. While most had ducked for cover, there were some rushing him under the cover of their companion’s fire. Preparing himself, he waited till they came around the corner and let off a flurry of shots, adrenaline surging through him. He realized that he had emptied his remaining eight shots into the four bandits. Quickly, he holstered his pistols and drew another pair. Looking up, he saw that the enemy had moved closer, their shots keeping him down. 

Ramming one pistol home, he stood and fanned off six shots as he sprinted back through an alley to get farther away. As he rounded the corner, he quickly flicked the revolver open and dropped the shells, reloading as fast as possible. He would collect them later. Grabbing his whistle, he started blowing, hoping some of the other guards would arrive in time. Putting the reloaded pistol away, he quickly reloaded the other two pistols. He was way down n his body count for the amount of shots fired. Moving to a different alley, he snuck back to the area the bandits were still gathered. Looking around the corner, he saw most of them were moving to go after him. Bursting from cover, he unloaded both pistols into the group till the hammers clicked empty. By the time he got into new cover, his jacket had been torn to shreds and he had a quarrel in his left thigh. 

Limping, he switched his pair of pistols. Charging to a new piece of cover, he winced as he felt a bolt cut into his tail. Another quarrel clipped a horn, causing him to fall over and roll on the ground. The fall pushed the quarrel deeper into his leg. Crawling behind cover, he opened fire as the bandits charged him. Another dozen died under the deluge of lead, but there were still over a dozen left charging at him, and at least three of them were holding usable firearms. 

Fear suddenly washed away from Norris. He knew his backup was too far away. There was nothing they could do to save him. All he could do was buy time for them to finish off the band of raiders. With a loud yell, he pulled the bolt from his leg and slotted his guns home. Drawing his saber, he forced himself to his feet to meet his end. Reaching into his shirt, he grabbed the locket with pictures of Lillia and Ianthe.

His hair stood on end as a bolt of lightning blazed down the street from the right, frying the first few bandits. Most of them stopped dead and looked at the source of the lightning. Most of them started backing off, firing over their shoulders. A loud roar coursed down the street. From the other side, two smaller bolts streaked, killing two more bandits. A quieter, but no less furious roar followed it. Gritting his teeth, Norris charged from cover, closing quickly with the remaining bandits.

As he reached the first one, a figure flew in from his left side. Two sabers flicked out from the filter, downing two of the bandits as a second set of hands sent a bolt of fire into the chest of a third enemy. From his right, a large figure pounced, knocking one of the bandits to the ground and disemboweling two more of the bandits. Not wanting to be outdone by his daughter or her dragon, she let out a mighty yell and started slashing with his saber, taking one of the bandits down. 

Under the assault from two terrifying tieflings and a dragon, the remaining bandits fled. As the bandits crossed to the next street, they ran into the rest of the town guard, pole-arms ready for use. In moments, the remaining bandits were arrested or killed. 

Norris turned to his daughter, her eyes wild and hair coming loose from its braids. She dropped her blades and threw all four arms around her father, hugging him close. “Don’t ever do that again. I know you’re a hero, but please stop acting like an idiot.” 

“I’m sorry dear. I had to.” Norris knew it wouldn’t help, but he didn’t like lying to his daughter.

“I know.” She said into his chest. “I’m just glad you’re not dead.”


	7. Devil and the Blood War

The devil everyone referred to as Mensk walked around the village of Mudkin glade with a warm smile and a glint of appreciation in his eyes. He leaned on the cane he used when in his human form, his long beard hanging down to his chest. It had been a few months since he had taken this village over, and the stoop of his persona wasn’t all for show. This world was low on magic, and as devil of his caliber, being here for an extended amount of time gave him aches. 

No one in the village tried to attack him after the first time they had called adventurers to rid them of him. Using his wiles, he had convinced the adventurer’s to help him rather than remove him. Of course, he had to promise not to injure or let injury happen to any of the people in the village from his machinations. Slightly frustrated by that, but nevertheless happy to get the better part of the arrangement, Mensk had agreed. 

That was months ago. Now, he was looking around the town, seeing the prosperity he had brought to them with bureaucracy. Their farms were more productive, their workshops were more productive, and the people were working more efficiently. Sure, they seemed to have less leisure time, but that was only because he insisted on rigidity of purpose while they worked. He didn’t try to stop them from socializing outside of work. In fact, he was attending one of their weddings in the next few days. 

It had amused him when they looked in fear as he told them he would attend. They would get over their fear eventually. He had no interest in them as more than just resources for him and his masters. He knew it would take a long time for his plans to bear fruit, but what mattered in the Blood War was the long run. He was hoping to turn this village, and the entire area, into a place that would worship him and his master. Once they did that, all of their souls would belong to his master through him. Having a large, constant source of souls would not change the course of the war, but it would give them time for their other designs to come into play. 

He was pulled from his plans for the future when he heard a scream in the fields. Listening closely, he could tell this was not a scream of an animal scaring one of the children or someone getting injured from their tool. This was actual danger. Feeling a sense of professional protectiveness over his soon to be soul mine, he hobbled off to the fields.

When he arrived, he saw there were a few rough looking travelers surrounding some of his village folk. They were armed with shabby looking hide armor and notched swords, warped axes, and cracked spears. Despite the poor status of their equipment, they were clearly more than willing to use it. The villagers were only armed with farming implements. Mensk made a note to himself that all of the villagers needed some form of easy to use weapon on them at all times. He would put in the proper paperwork to his unit’s quartermaster, maybe even get it expedited. 

Turning his attention back to the travelers, he saw that one of the blades had blood on it and one of the villagers was down, a long gash on his arm. Two others were gathered around him, trying to bandage him.

“Now, do I have to ask again? We need some food and clothing, and now, you may have even damaged our equipment with that little attempt at resistance. Give us what we need or we may just force the repair costs out of you.” The human smiled, his teeth browned and broken. As Mensk walked in front, he could smell the sourness wafting from them. Another thing he had to fix, a local bathhouse. Can’t have the people here discontent. They had to want to be part of his new order.

“Hey, geezer, move out of the way. Unless you are here to say we can have whatever we want.” One of the travelers cackled as she eyed one of the men helping close the wound.

“Now, I was gonna tell y’all that I’d give ya one chance ta walk away,” Mensk’s slow drawl slid from his mouth. “But it seems to me that yo’ve used yer warnin’.” Without giving them a moment to reply, he transformed into his devil form. His walking stick lengthened to a large spear, his body grew from a just over five foot, hunched man, to an eight foot powerfully built devil. His beard lengthened and clumped into long tentacles with spikes along them. A cruel smile lit on his face. “Good thing I have a need for souls.” With a flick of his wrist, his spear plunged into the chest of the lead traveler. Stepping forwards, his tentacled beard lashed out, downing two more before they could even react. 

The four remaining travelers lashed out. One of them brought a two handed woodsman’s ax down onto Mensk’s arm. The notched blade bounced off the devil’s unnatural flesh. A spear was thrust at his neck, making a small incision on one of the tentacles. A pair of bows were drawn, shooting arrows that shattered against the bearded devil’s skin. 

With deadly precision and brutality, Mensk slaughtered the remaining travelers easily. When he was done, he turned to the people who had gathered around. Turning back into his human form, he smiled at them. “Sorry I was late. Come along and we can get that arm looked at. Everyone else,” He looked around at them, a wicked smile on his face. “I’m glad to see that you stood your ground. You all make me feel blessed to be here.” The townsfolk shared wary looks and smiled back at him. He hobbled away, leaking the injured man back to the temple for healing. His mind was whirling with more schemes and processes he would have to institute to help these people along his master’s path.


	8. Dragon

The bronze dragon opened its mouth to yawn in the pre-dawn light. Slowly, the two orb eyes opened and it sniffed deeply before giving another yawn. Looking around, she noticed the small tiefling girl was still curled up to the dragon’s stomach. Not wanting to disturb the girl, the dragon slowly moved its limbs till it had extracted itself from among the bedding of the nest it had created. There was one terrifying moment when the child had rolled under her bulk and the four arms started scratching her belly. The scratching only lasted for a few moments before the two pairs of arms curled back into contented slumber. 

Finally free, the dragon slunk to the front door and tried to nuzzle it open. The door was locked. “If you need to go out, just ask.” A voice said. Turning, the dragon saw a faceless doll staring at it. It whined and nuzzled the door again. “Please use your words.” The genderless voice issues from now where specific on the doll. 

The dragon stuck its tongue out at the doll. “Go out?” It asked, forming the words in common with some difficulty. The doll nodded and unlocked the door.

“Don’t get into danger.” The faceless doll said, closing the door after the dragon had trundled outside. Once outside, the dragon started to run and stretch, smelling the clear dawn air. With a crack, its wings snapped open and the dragon started gliding near the ground, occasionally running to keep up the speed needed to remain in the air. 

Letting out a keening whoop, the dragon let the world know its joy as it careened into the river near Ollie. With a huge splash, the bronze dragon bellied into the river and sighed contentedly, lazily floating down the river. Finally, as the sun started to rise over the horizon, the dragon pulled itself from the river and started looking around for breakfast. Even though she got fed by her tiefling’s father, the dragon liked to hunt when she could. While she had learned to not hunt the animals owned by people, she still had a nasty habit of going up to them, and making sure the owner was watching, licking the animal in a way that shows she could eat it if she wanted. It made her happy when the owners got angry and yelled at her. 

Sniffing the air, she tasted a storm on the horizon. The young dragon loved storms. It caused the river to swell, making it fun to ride along, and lightning streaked from the sky. The little tiefling loved lightning, and the bronze dragon felt invigorated by the lightning. After a quick hunt, she would head back and curl up with her tiefling so they could enjoy the lightning storm and play. 

A little while later, a bolt of lightning from the clear sky slammed into the ground. A large figure in black armor walked out from the bolt of lightning, large mace at their waist. Looking around, the figure saw the dragon enjoying a meal off in the distance. Moving at relativistic speeds, the figure appeared next to the dragon, who was too busy with her meal to look up.

“Good Morning, little dragon.” The voice that came out was slightly scratchy, as if it was made from sparks, static, and lightning. The dragon started and looked up, muzzle covered in blood from its meal.

“Oh! Hello! I didn’t expect to meet you now.” She swallowed her mouthful of meat. “Or even ever.” The figure laughed.

“Well, it has been a long time since one of my great wyrms has come to life.” The figure patted the dragon’s head, causing her to purr contentedly. “And since the next few months are going to be very busy and nerve wracking, I wanted to say hello before I didn’t have another chance.”

“What do you mean?” The dragon tilted her head. The figure shook its head and chuckled. 

“When the Lost Orb comes around, and the ritual is done, this world will drastically change. Even us gods cannot tell what is going to happen.” The figure looked off to the distance. “But till then, I guess the world keeps turning, and so should the rains. Carry on my child.” With a flash, the figure was gone.

Shrugging, the dragon continued her meal, content that with whatever happened, she would remain with her little tiefling and her ancestral god would keep her safe.


	9. Constructs and Elementals

The manakin looked up at the sink. Standing only two feet tall, most chores were more of a challenge than for most people. However, the manakin did not know the meaning of hardship. It was an automaton that was made for minor household chores. Without a hint of dismay, it pulled up a chair and hopped onto it to start cleaning the dishes. While it could use some magic to clean up, that was only done in emergency circumstances as using it too much would shut the manakin down. 

Most people watching the manakin would think that it enjoyed the work, but if asked, the manakin would not know how to answer. It did not know pleasure, joy, discomfort, anger, or any other emotion. It worked diligently until it come to a rough cut hematite. This spot was only for dishes. How had a gemstone appeared here? Stepping down from the chair, the manakin attempted to find someone else in the house. 

The large tiefling was not at home. The manakin figured he was working, as he tended to do most days. The young tiefling was not in the house either. Walking out back, it saw her playing with the dragon. If the manakin could feel an emotion in regards to the dragon, it would be exasperation. The dragon was always making a mess, and whenever the little tiefling was around the dragon, she also made a mess. 

But the manakin felt no emotions towards either of them other than a built in concept of loyalty to the people of the house. Walking forwards, the faceless doll stopped near the two romping younglings. “Mistress, I found this.” It held the hematite out to the young tiefling. The girl and the dragon looked over at the doll. Straightening her dress, she came over and looked at the gem.

“Doesn’t look like something Momma would have brought back.” She said, a pair of arms on her hips while the other pair looked at the gem. “Maybe Uncle Al knows. He has lots of stuff in his bag!” She handed the stone back. The manakin turned around and walked off to see where “Uncle Al” was. 

Searching for the floating skull wasn’t an easy task. Al wasn’t often home, and when he was, he often looked like decorations. After wandering through the house three times, the manakin had come to the conclusion that Al was not at home. Figuring this was a mystery that could be finished later, and that there were chores to do, it went to put the gem into a small pocket in its clothing.

Before it could place the gem into the pocket, a strong hand closed around the manakin’s hand. Looking over, the manakin saw the young Xorn the Mistress’s of the house adopted. It let go of the hand and pointed to the gem, gargling something out in Primordial. Nodding, the manakin held the gem out to the Xorn, which spun in joy before carefully taking the gem and throwing it into its waiting maw. Gargling out its thanks, the Xorn trundled off to the backyard to play with the young tiefling and the dragon. 

Most people would have felt a sense of satisfaction at completing a mystery. Even such a simple mystery would have given them some satisfaction. For the manakin, there was no satisfaction. It was merely a job completed before beginning to, once again, progress on the other jobs it had to do. The day continued to progress, and the odd occurrence was not remembered with anything more than the understanding that if the manakin found any more gems lying around in the wrong place, it should keep in mind that it may be the Xorn’s meal.


	10. Eldritch

Al looked around as they ascended the stairs. They had been going up this spiral stairwell for at least ten minutes, and none of them were slacks when it came to going up stairs (except for maybe Zilvra, who had convinced Adria to carry her again), but this stairwell was going on forever. This building must be taller than that library they went to a few months ago. 

This had been a crazy haunted house they were in. Spirits, zombies, poltergeists had assaulted them from all angels. It seemed like the house itself also wanted to kill them, or at least impede them. When they had finally found a ghost that wasn’t hostile, it had faded away before it could say anything other than something was holding their souls here, eating them, and it kept drawing in new souls. 

This led them up to the attic. At least, it would if they would ever get there. The climb had become so tedious that even him, without any arms or legs, was getting tired. “Hey, do you guys think we should just go down?” He called from the back. They stopped and looked behind them. To their surprise, the pathway was even darker and it did not seem to contain any stairs. 

“Go down where, shrimp?” Zilvra asked, rolling her eyes. 

“Nevermind.” He floated past the group. After another turn, he felt himself hit wood. “Hey, we found the attic.” He called out.

“We know Al, we are right behind you.” Lillia was having a hard time not swatting the floating skull. Grabbing the door with his disembodied hand, Al opened the door into a room with golden bowls, rosewater, white linens, and comfy chairs. There was a door at the far end. After examining the room, they found nothing unusual. As they were about to try the next door, a ghost appeared behind them, covered in chains. 

“It is here! It will eat your souls. I’m sorry I brought you here, but it is hungry!”. With a gust of wind, they were blown into the next room. They all shook their heads as the door slammed. They were in a long hallway with paintings of different and odd scenes all along the sides. They spent some time investigating the different portraits. Lillia gasped.

“This is Esterfey! How do they have a portrait of my hometown?” She asked no one in particular.

“Like the ghost said, it is an eldritch power that runs this place.” Al said, floating over. “I’m guessing each of these is a place it has stolen people from. I mean, look how many there are.” His disembodied hand pointed to the impossibly long hallway. There was only two feet of wall between each portrait. As they looked to see how far the hallway went, they noticed a squat figure in the middle of the hall, tentacles flailing all around it. “And I’m guessing we have finally found the master of this house.”

The eldritch horror let out a scream and charged at them. Waddling forwards on stubby legs, its oversized paunch and jowls wobbled as fast as its tentacles flailed. A large beak on its face was dripping acid, snapping as it hungered for their souls. Stopping well out of weapon range, half a dozen tentacles lashed out at them.

“Don’t let them touch you!” Adria yelled. “The acid will hurt your soul.” Adria, Zilvra, Lillia, and Norris all backed up and started casting spells. Al rolled the gems where his eyes should be and charged forwards, biting deep into one of the tentacles. While the flesh was harder than any normal flesh should be, he was able to break through the tentacle with a surge of radiant energy. As he did, the creature’s blood spurted out, sending flames flying everywhere. 

“AL!” Lillia shouted with her best ‘Mom’ voice. She leveled her pistol to the creature and fired, blowing a hole in its side, causing more fire to spray out.

“LILLIA!” Al shouted back sarcastically. His eyes went wide as one of the tentacles slammed into him, sending him flying. He felt the energy draining from his bone. It wasn’t just damage, Adria had been right. This thing was draining what soul he had left. He looked back at his four friends. Three were able to cast spells and attack the thing from afar, while Norris was firing off his pistols. He was a floating skull. All he could do was bite this thing. Giving an invisible shrug, he charged back in, hoping to buy his friends more time. 

As he made his final charge, a trio of spells hit the eldritch horror along with a barrage of bullets. The combined force of the hurricane of hits caused the creature to explode, spreading sheets of fire all over the room. The room ignited, washes of heat blowing them all back. 

Seeing the flames consuming the building around them, they all raced back towards the door. Zilvra got there first and threw all of her insignificant strength into opening the door. “It’s stuck!” She screamed. 

“Look, the paintings.” Lillia’s words caught their attention. From most of the paintings, fell creatures started pulling themselves into existence. There were a few that didn’t have anyone coming out of them. 

“If they can come out, you think we can go in?” Al asked. “I’d rather not burn to death.” Looking at the few different images that were not filled with fell creatures, they all agreed unanimously to take the one that showed Esterfey. Rushing the painting, they all found themselves in a heap on the ground where they had entered this building. 

Norris rolled onto his back, groaning. “I love you dear, but from now on, I won’t be fighting any eldritch enemies. I’ll take normal flesh and blood.” There were only groans in response to his words, all of them sore, but relieved to not be dead, eaten, or burned.


	11. Might and Mind

Al leafed through the book in front of him. Ever since their time in the oozy place in the City of Mirrors, he has, from time to time, been taken with fits of prodigious curiosity with an insatiable intellect. This state was so different from his normal state of befuddlement. The strength that suffused his infernal being was drained and transferred to his mind. He wasn’t sure what had caused this, but he figured it was the wyrdstone from the comet that had caused him to have this change. He was thankful that it was only temporary. 

Adria was a serviceable door for the party, but she could barely use the swords she carried. Al was a much tougher, and overall much stronger fighter, despite not having a shred of muscle on his bony skull. They needed him to be strong and a capable fighter to keep them safe, not that any of them would admit it. 

As he read the book, he tried to determine how he felt about this situation. When he was his forgetful self, he still had access to all of the same knowledge he could now recite and extrapolate on with ease. He even knew he had the information, but there were massive gaps in what he could access at times. Right now, he was happy to have all the information at his non-existent fingertips. But he knew a lot of horrible things, so at times, it made him happy to be able to forget what he knew and only have a few cares in the world. 

He closed the book and moved to the next one. Right now, when it came to looking up musical scores for magic rituals, he was happy to indulge the academic he was created to be. But on the other side of the coin, killing things was also a lot of fun. With a mental shrug, he figured that each had their time and place, and it would be wonderful to experience both at the same time. But so far, that was a pleasure denied to him.

As he went to pull down another book, he felt the fog return to his mind. With a patience born of centuries of unlife, he sighed and accepted the fog. At least he was able to enjoy each aspect to its entirety. He figured having his attention divided would lessen his enjoyment. As the fog fully set in, he looked at the books and sighed loudly, despite not having lungs. Cocking his head, he looked at the bookshelf again.

One of the books wasn’t actually a book. It was an illusion. “Was I really so smart I was too focused on the knowledge in the books to see through the illusion? Damn, I must really be an idiot. Hey! I think I found something!” He shouted to the rest of his party, his existential quandaries forgotten for a moment.


	12. Plants

The woods were alive with noises for those listening for them. Animals and insects all made noises as they searched for mates, proclaimed their territories, warned away rivals, or just proclaimed their existence to the world. Like most woods, there were many layers of activity and ecosystems. In the canopy, the birds held sway, their chirps, screeches, and songs filling the shield of the canopy. Below them, there was the chitter and bark of small mammals scurrying up and down the trees. Along the ground was the thumping, rooting, grunting, lowing, and chittering of all manner of creatures, mixing with the buzz of insects and the small chirps of birds who had landed for food. 

All of these sounds were normal to someone who walked the forest regularly. However, there was something else in this woods. There were groans coming from some of the trees. Each tree had its own pitch and timbre, as if they were voices of the trees. The only trees that talked in such a way were called Krellic trees. These trees had never existed for the history of the world until 180 years ago. Most people had no idea where these special trees came from, whose wood had special properties and the harvesting of which required special rituals with the spirits that lived within them.

However, should one continue to walk into the forest, they would come across something even more peculiar. If a person were to get past the waving lower branches that seemed to reach out to you, through the briar growth that was a healthy hemoglobin red rather than dark green, past the groves that whispered incessantly without making a noise, they would come to an area of ebony trees, all dead and solidified. All of the trees that remained were evenly placed and set out in spokes. 

As the person travels closer to the epicenter of this copse of dead trees, the distance between the different spokes gets closer and closer until all of the spokes are growing into one large, unbroken ring of wood nearly five hundred feet in diameter. 

Seeing two trees growing into each other isn’t too uncommon. However, seeing all of these trees growing that close together would unnerve even the most stalwart of people. For those not terrified away, there is always climbing the trees to see what was inside the ring of trees. After the arduous climb to the top of the trees, looking down would garner one with the sight of a large, glowing clump of blue stone. 

This stone is what caused the Krellic trees to form. It’s mutating magical energies created a new breed of trees and spirits for those trees. This stone was part of a much large comet that had caused a cataclysm nearly two hundred years ago. It had changed the ecosystem (natural, cultural, and magical) of the planet. Most people didn’t realize how much it was destroying and changing the world. Those few who had found the stones and saw the change were often driven mad from the knowledge. Only two people currently know of this sacred and sacrilegious grove in the Krellic woods. Neither of them are going to tell anyone else about it. Both are elves, but one wants to control the stone while the other wants to rid the world of the stone. Their fates are about to intersect.


	13. Humanoids

“It is wonderful to see you!” Bartzarius clapped his hands together, his face a mask of joy as he greeted the newcomers. His fellows turned to the entrance. In the room were five people, one of them being Bartzarius himself. He was a tall and regal elf, his posture ramrod straight, his clothing befitting of an Imperial High Magister (albeit slightly ancient in style). His fingers were jeweled and each of the gems pulsed with energy. 

Sitting to his left was another elf, this one a more tanned wood elf. While his bearing was almost as imperial as Bartzarius, his clothing was far from it. While richly decorated, the clothing this elf wore was more befitting a group of hermits or monks who secluded themselves from the world. His face, which had been smiling before, frowned, showing its great age as he looked to at the newcomers. While a few years Bartzarius’s senior, the frown made him look nearly two centuries older, his hair paler and closer to while than his friend’s.

Next around the table was another elf. This one was considerably younger than the previous two. His hair was dark and his eyes piercing. While the previous two elves were dignified to the point many would consider haughty, this one was lounging and languid, a cup in one hand and a harmonica in the other. He was already a dozen cups in, which was why he had taken the harmonica when one of them handed it to him. Normally, he would never play such a device, but he was too drunk to care now. His clothing was that of a traveler and an entertainer. Unlike the other elf, his eyes lit up when he saw the newcomers, the start of an even larger epic unfolding before him.

On Bartzarius’s right was a human. He had a tannish-yellow skin and dark hair immaculately cut to give a rakish appearance. While he was of average height and build, looking into his eyes showed a different person. Intelligence burned in his eyes, taking in every detail of not only the newcomers, but of everyone’s reactions to them. The studied eyes of a spy took in details most people missed and easily catalogued them for later. The only time his face showed any emotion was when he looked at the halfling next to him.

The halfling next to him stood out like a sore thumb. Not only was she the shortest in the room, but she was the only female, and her clothing had a very dwarven cut to it. Two deadly looking axes hung from her belt, despite her slight frame. Her eyes had gone from wary to blazing with defiance when she saw the newcomers.

“I’m amazed our surface kin would even contact us.” The drow matriarch stepped forwards, a cruel sneer on her face. 

“Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.” Bartzarius chuckled. “How would you like to not only gain prestige, but get a decisive victory over the Mon-Orth family?” The drow’s sneer grew, a promise of wicked moments to come. “I thought so.”


	14. The Halfling

Larkin laughed, springing away from the fire as Rumil flushed red, and not from the fire. Her laughter reached a higher register as Rumil stood, only to quickly sit down as he registered the front of his pants. “Well, it seems the stick in the mud wants his stick in…” Her laughter reached a fever pitch and she couldn’t finish her taunt before the laughter overtook her.

“It’s not that funny.” Rumil muttered, grabbing his shield and placing it over his lap, making a pretext of cleaning it. His actions caused his diminutive party member to laugh even more. He looked over at his other companions. All of them were laughing at the Halfling’s antics as well. 

“Come on Rumil.” She finally breathed in, “Just admit it is funny. You know you like this.” Rumil remained quiet and eventually Larking sighed and went back to the fireside. One day, she would make him smile with her antics. Everyone else found her humorous, but she really wanted to make the humorless paladin crack a smile. That would be a true challenge. 

The next day, they headed into town. “So, is it foraging in the woods for you today Seraph?” Larkin asked the druid. 

“Yup. Hopefully you can scrounge up work so we can eat something more than berries and nuts. There hasn’t been any game around here.” Seraphina sighed and headed back into the woods. Akmun, their towering green berserker followed, going off to supplement their foraging. 

“So, where are we off to?” Larkin asked. 

“I’m off to the Elven quarter, see if anyone there needs assistance. Elven contracts pay the best.” Moonflower walked off, whistling a jaunty tune.

“And I guess you are off to the message boards?” Larkin muttered to Rumil.

“That is the best place for commissions. Especially since you were kicked out of the local temple.” Rumil sighed, remembering the prank Larkin pulled on the local cleric. She had used her magic to dye his vestments troubadour colors during the sermon.

“Hey, even you have to agree that was the only color to that sermon. He was droning on.” Larking groaned. She knew that she wouldn’t convince Rumil. That rod was still too far up his ass. “Well, I have an idea of how to make some money.” Rumil glanced down at Larkin, whose face had broken into a large grin. “I know there is a large gambling ring, and from what I hear they have been cheating people.”

“And you want us to break them up?” Rumil cocked an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Of course not. I want us to go in there, and with some magical assistance, clean them out.” She grinned wickedly. “Once we clean them out, they won’t be able to hurt anyone else. I just need you to keep me safe.”

Rumil thought for a moment, then motioned for her to lead. Larkin smiled, figuring this would be safer, and make the town like them more, than any commission Rumil or Moonflower could dig up themselves. Larkin smirked as she led the way through the town into one of the less reputable districts. As they approached the building, she pulled Rumil to a stop. 

“I think now is the time to tell you I’m not allowed in the tavern that the gambling den is connected to.” Rumil clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “Hey, I’m still allowed in the gambling den, I just don’t know another entrance. You just keep walking, and I’ll play your little shadow.”

“Touch my ass again and I will let them find you.” Rumil replied, resigned to his fate. They had come this far already. Walking forwards, Larkin slipped behind her human compatriot. They passed into the bar easily and went down the passage to the gambling den. Once they entered into the den, she broke away from his shadow. 

“Ah, little Larkin.” A voice called out. A small figure, made almost of all wrinkled face and tacky suit came out of the darkness. The gnome had his hair greased back and was smiling maliciously at her. “Here to grace our pockets with more of your coin?” Rumil looked down at her. Larking refused to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah, I’m here to play.” Larkin puffed her chest out. The gnome laughed.

“Well, maybe your luck will turn around. Twelfth time’s the charm, right?” He chortled as he walked away.

“Larkin, twelve times you’ve been here?” There was no reproach in Rumil’s voice, just surprise. 

“Yes. And every time he cheats and steals my money. I can prove it and I will beat him this time. I have a new spell that will help me.” Larkin glared at the gnome’s back. 

“How about you let me play. This way you can cast from the shadows and it won’t be as obvious.” Rumil offered. Larkin looked at him aghast. “Hey, just because I’m a paladin does not mean I don’t know how to gamble…I just don’t like to advertise it.”

“Wait, so you are running this con with me, just not along for the ride?” Rumil nodded and held his hand out. Larkin took her last few silvers out and placed them in his armored palm. “Oh, these guys are going down.” 

For the next two hours, Rumil and Larkin slowly gambled their way into a small fortune. Rumil was a better player than Larkin had dared to believe, and somehow, her luck, which had abandoned her a dozen times before, was rubbing off on him. She didn’t even need to cast her new spell, which slightly galled her. 

Finally, they had amassed a large number of silver and copper coins, with some gold as well. As Rumil was gently scooping it into a bag, a hand landed on his shoulder.   
“Well, you seem to have had a good day here.” The gnome smiled at him. It was the kind of smile that curdled milk. 

“It was a very good day.” Larkin cut in, not trusting Rumil enough with lying. One surprise per day from this paladin was enough. “We are so happy to have been able to be patron’s of your fine establishment.”

“Well, it would be a fine day, if you weren’t cheating.” The gnome smiled, showing crooked teeth. Behind him a group of the den’s bouncers were handling weighted cudgles, ready to use them when called upon.

“We weren’t cheating. My boy here is just good and lucky. More lucky than good.” Larkin lied. “He won all of this fairly. If I were to cheat, why would I have lost everything twelve times before?” The Gnome started to think about that. Before he could reply, Larking whispered to Rumil, “Do you want to see the spell I was holding for this? Just get ready to run when I tell you to.” With a quick flick of her wrists and a string of short syllables, dark tentacles rose from the ground and grabbed the bouncers and the gnome. 

Rumil took off sprinting, not sure where Larkin had disappeared to. He burst out of the tavern and continued his speedy flight to where they had camped earlier in the day. When he arrived, out of breath and stumbling, he looked around. He saw Akmun and Seraphina preparing some food. Moonflower was no where to be seen. Neither was Larkin.

“Did Larkin get here already?” When the others shook their heads, Rumil swore. “Damn it all. I need to go back and save her.” He turned around to start running back. 

“Aw, you care enough to come back and save me? Even though I got you in trouble?” Larkin’s voice came in over his shoulder. Rumil’s head whipped around to see the small halfling clinging onto his back. Relief spread over his face to see that she was there. 

Suddenly, a smile broke across Rumil’s face and he started laughing. Larkin laughed with him as she dropped down. Clasping arms, they continued to laugh. The rest of the party looked at them with utter confusion as the halfling had finally made the paladin laugh.


	15. Sorceror

Larkin peaked from around Seraphina and let off a bolt of lightning, searing three of the giant spiders. She ducked back into the cover of her friend’s body after the spell. 

“Why are you always back there!” Seraphina shouted as she shot an arrow into one of the cultists herding the spiders. “It might give you a better shot if you weren’t standing behind me.” She grunted as a bolt of necrotic energy splashed against her leathers. “And you always make me a target!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I am a frail little flower.” Larkin answered poetically. As she did so, a flick of her wrist and a quick chant brought slimy, otherworldly tentacles into being to grab a few of the cultists and bring them to the ground, writhing in agony. 

“Frail my ass. You could wipe us all out in your sleep. And you nearly did that one time when…” Seraphina shouted as she called down a column of moonlight.

“Hey, I said I was sorry. You don’t have to keep bringing that up!” Larkin blushed, slipping her toad Pippen into her sling. “How was I to know that I could cast in my sleep!” She cast shocking touch and transferred it to her familiar. Winding up, she hurled her toad forwards to deliver the spell to one of the spiders. As she cast the spell and flung Pippen, multi-colored lights exploded everywhere within one hundred feet, blinding everyone. 

“Fucking wild mages.” Seraphina screamed, covering her blinded eyes. She felt a wet smack as the large Fire Toad slammed into her face on his flight back to his master. Shaking with rage, she looked down at the small sorceress. Larkin merely smiled up at her and pointed.

Looking over, Seraphina noticed all of the spiders were heavily dazed and being killed by the rest of their party. The remaining cultists were dead, except for one that ran blindly into a tree, knocking himself out. She merely shook her head and walked forwards. “Fucking wild mages.” She grumbled.


	16. Paladin

Mytol checked the belts at his waist, making sure none were overlapping and all the bags and weapons on them were in reach. After, they checked the straps of their plate armor to make sure it was sitting in place and none of it would slip. It would not do for their soldiers to see the armor askew. The plates were well fitted, moving almost silently as Mytol checked all of the straps. 

The plate armor was made of a dark metal not native to this plane. It was carved into small scales all over, with detail befitting ceremonial armor of the richest of dragon kings. However, on closer inspection, one would notice at the end of each scale was a small barb standing up out of the plate armor, creating millions of hooks, each one issuing the smallest stream of smoke that dissipated mere millimeters from the end of the barbs, giving the whole suit a blurry outline. 

Mythol picked up their blade to sheath it. The blade was a straight longsword, double edged and ending in a diamond shaped point. The blade went down nearly to the hilt, giving only three inches of flat metal. The crossbar was a straight iron bar, simple and serviceable. The hilt was textured with wrapped wire to create finger slots for an easier grip and covered in well worn leather. Overall, it was an unimpressive sword, especially compared to the scale carved armor and shield.

The only form of ornamentation was an orb-like black gem making up the pommel. Mythol gently stroked the gem before sheathing the sword and striding out of their tent. The assembled lieutenants all straightened up and tried not to quaver under the dreaded knight’s stare.

“Are we prepared?” Mythol’s voice sounded like gas escaping from a small crack, whispering and harsh. There was a visible shudder in the gathered group, but only the soldier at the front of the formation replied. 

“Yes, Lord Mythol. We are ready to begin.” His voice was clipped and quick, but he made sure to speak clearly enough for Mythol to understand. 

“Very good. Now we wipe these creatures and their evil natures from the world.” Mythol looked over the plains below to the city of Kask, the last of the Confederacy of Cities. The soldiers all looked at each other. All of them knew of the decadence of the cities and they had all heard they consorted, in more ways than one, with non-humans. So when Mythol had come, hell-bent on eradicating their decadent ways and returning the people to a simpler way of life, people who had been ground up and spit out by these cities flocked to their banner. 

Having slaughtered and looted the other cities, they had come finally to the center of this decadent way of life. Mythol smiled as their goal was within reach. “Begin the assault.” Chanting, Mythol called upon their magic to infuse their lieutenants with power, making them more resilient to the enemy’s machinations. 

Deep in the void, a dead good laughed as his champion started more slaughter, each death being unknowingly given to him, slowly bringing him back to life. Across the planes, those who were sensitive enough shivered as Bhaal’s Paladin served their god.


	17. The Half-Orc

Tolva sat alone in her room. She had spent another night servicing clients and didn’t want to interact with anyone else at this time. She was long past the point of tears. That had stopped a few months ago. Now, she just had a resentment of life in general. She knew some of the other people here enjoyed their work, but she could never bring herself to enjoy it. What finally propelled her into motion was the aching hunger in her gut rearing its ugly head. 

Standing up, she ducked to keep from hitting her head on the door frame. At six and a half feet tall, Tolva was taller than most humans, a gift of her mother’s people. She was also more muscular than most people, especially most of the clients here. 

Making sure she was well covered, Tolva went to the front office and handed over her earnings for the night. After it was counted, she was handed back a small portion that was hers to keep. Flashing a snarl with her orc teeth, she stormed out of the brothel into the early morning streets of Waterdeep. As she walked down the street, hood pulled up, she looked at the people passing her. Most of them avoided her due to her size, but a few snickered and there was even a catcall from some of the more unscrupulous people. 

Even after 6 months, her cheeks still burned with shame as she passed the theater. She had come here to make her way as an actress, but she was turned away from every acting troupe, as they said they had no parts for a female half orc who towered over almost everyone. Especially not one who was built like a barbarian. It didn’t matter that she was a good actress, they couldn’t find a spot for her. She had quickly worked through her savings working odd jobs and manual labor. It was only when someone told her how much she could make as a courtesan did she give in. She had been living on the streets, only eating once per day, twice from particularly lucrative jobs.

However, once she had gotten there, they made her sign a contract. She hadn’t read the contract fully. While she had a place to stay, she was making a paltry amount and if she tried to leave, they had legal recourse to take her back. She often dreamed of finding something to call the town watch down on the place. Have the brothel shut down and she would be free. 

She walked for a while, having heard of this new pie shop on Troll Skull Alley. When she got there, she saw a disorganized and insane household of adults and children running around. She paid none of it any mind, quietly paying for her pie and escaping from that house before someone tried to talk to her. 

Eating her pie, she slowly made her way back to the brothel. There wasn’t much for her to do other than sleep and wait for another day to drift away from her. As she entered the building from the worker’s entrance, she heard some arguing from the main office. It wasn’t unusual for someone who hadn’t made a lot to be yelled at, but this seemed different. The yelling wasn’t in Common. Sidling up to the door, Tolva looked in and bit her lip to keep from shouting. 

In the office stood the proprietor, a man in a strange robe, and a the visage of the most hideous woman Tolva had ever seen. All of them were engrossed in their conversation. Listening, Tolva finally heard one sentence in Common. The robed man, who had done most of the talking, spoke to the proprietor. “Our master decrees that she will need five souls. They can come from anywhere. She will require this amount every month. Fail her and she will punish you. Succeed, and she will grant you wondrous powers of suggestion, that way you’ll be able to make that filthy orc even like this job.” The proprietor bellowed a sickly laughter. 

Feeling the blood run from her veins, Tolva quickly backed out of where she was and sprinted from the building. She had no idea what to do. Would anyone believe her? She ran blindly, the thought of someone entering her mind and controlling her, making her like the life she was in, shook her to her bones. 

She was so shaken, she didn’t realize that she had blundered into one of the Waterdeep guards. Looking down at this small man, she starts babbling an apology. When he tilts his helmet up so she can see his face, she breaths a sigh of relief. It was Todd. He was a friendly guard who came by often to make sure everything was ok. He never patronized the brothel, but he was on a first name basis with some of the workers there.

“Tolva? What’s wrong?” He asked, looking up at this towering half-orc.

“I need your help. I overheard something I shouldn’t have. The owners was making a deal with a fey creature and a wizard. He promised souls to people for some sort of magic power.” She blurted the information into Todd’s face. 

It took Todd a few moments to recover. “Do you have any solid proof?” Tolva’s face contorted in disbelief. Sighing, Todd continued. “Without evidence, I cannot get the guard involved. I’m sorry.” After a few moments, he held his hand up. “Wait, I have an idea. I know of a group of adventurer’s who can look into this. One of them is a captain of the Guard. They may be able to investigate. I’ll see if they can come tonight. Just go back and wait for them.”

“Thank you.” Tolva didn’t want to go back, but she didn’t want them to send the guard after her again. Making her way back, she silently crept past the office and headed to her room. When she got in the room, a wave of exhaustion hit her. Within moments, she was sleeping on the floor, pillow under her head and blanket over her body. 

When she awoke, it was mid-afternoon. There were a few hours before business would pick up, but for now, she had to get ready as she might have the odd customer or two. Getting ready, she heard a knock at her door. Confused, she opened the door and was amazed to see the cowled figure standing there. Without preamble, he barged into the room. She shut the door, not sure what to expect. 

“How many I service you?” She asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice. The man looked her over. She had gotten used to people looking at her like she was a choice piece of meat, but this man was looking at her more intensely. Without answering the man strode over to her, hand outstretched with the flicker of magic on it. 

Tolva had no idea what snapped in her. If it was her fear of this man, the magic he was going to use, or if she had just reached her limit. As this mage came at her, intent on bewitching her, she dove to the side, grabbing the stood near her closet. Rolling to her feet, she swung the stool in a two-handed grip. 

Powered by her immense muscles and the rage of her ancestors, the stool shattered against the mage’s skull. Splinters of bone and wood went flying as the mage collapsed to the ground, dead. Her body shook as Adrenaline flooded her system. A smile slowly spread across her face as she realized what she had done. If she could kill this man, who was trying to assault her, maybe she could stand up for herself. Grabbing the man’s robes, she pulled off the bloody hood and put it on, making sure to take his purse and spell belt. Picking up one of the broken stool legs, she walked out of the room, determined to win her freedom. 

The hall was oddly quiet as she made her way to the main room. She tried some of the doors for the other girls, but they were all locked. Swallowing hard, she continued on to the main room, figuring ending the owner would also free her co-workers. Opening the door to the main room, she was greeted by a swirling melee. There were four adventurers in the middle of the room, trying to hold off a swarm of winged creatures while the owner cackled as he held open a dimensional gate. 

Seeing the adventurers were holding their own, she ran up to the owner and swung her improvised club at him. It slammed off hit back hard enough that the gate collapsed. The man whirled, face contorted with rage. 

“So, you still think you are better than me?” He sneered. From his fingers, beams of Eldritch light shot forth. Two of the beams slammed into Tolva, tossing her backwards as she blacked out. The moment she hit the ground, her eyes snapped back open. Her chest burned from the blasts of eldritch energy, but she was tougher than her opponent. 

Bouncing back to her feet, she charged forwards with nothing but her hands. Letting out a ululating battle cry, she charged into combat. She threw a jab with her off hand, smiling as he ducked the high punch. Bringing her left hand up, she slammed his jaw with her fist, lifting him off the ground and sending him flying through the air. 

“Is that all you can do? You may have beaten me, but you were never able to break me.” She stalked closer to him. “Now that I am fighting back, you merely dissolve away like the coward you are.” Her mind flared with power as the words cut deep into his psyche. With one final twitch, the proprietor died and the winged creatures all dissipated. 

Before they could see her, Tolva sprinted for the door, heading out of the brothel and into her new life.


	18. The Genasi

Jessik held her breath as her pursuers ran past her hiding spot. They went by without even noticing her. She chalked this good luck up to her Air Elemental side. However, it merely balanced out the fact that the people chasing her were only chasing her because she was a Genasi. So, it balanced out. She waited another minute before slipping from her concealed location and ran off in a different direction. 

Under normal circumstances, she could pass for human, albeit one covered in a lot of wind themed tattoos. Her hair looked like it had been died a gentle blue. However, there was nothing she could do about her eyes. They were the dark purple of storm clouds. Her voice sounded like a gentle breeze when she was happy. When she was upset, it was like a breaking storm. 

This time, it had been her hair that finally gave her away. It was always moving as if she was in a constant gusting wind. Being in a well-insulated building made it hard to blame the wind. To make matters worse, the people here still remembered the damages from the Temples of Elemental Evil. 

“Well, it’s time to move on.” Jessik sighed. Grabbing her pack from the inn room she had rented, she took off, heading closer to Waterdeep with every step. 

When she finally arrived, she was cursing her human half. She hadn’t eaten anything in a few days. Not that she hadn’t tried to find something to eat. She was down to her last few coins, but she was afraid to go into any of the towns along the way to purchase food. However, she had heard that Waterdeep was very cosmopolitan and people wouldn’t really care about her race. She found it hard to believe, but she had to hope. 

As she walked through the gate, she heard a bellowing voice, “By gum! This is exactly what I was looking for. How much for this? Jolly good!” Looking over, Jessik noticed a large hippo man talking to a small lizard folk. Around them, there was a taller lizard person, a human, a dwarf, and a half-orc. Jessik’s head spun. She had never seen so many races in one place. 

Letting out a completely voluntary sigh of relief, she pulled her hood down and shook her hair out. It floated around as if in a gust of wind. Only a few people looked at her as she walked around. But most of them went right back to what they were doing. 

“Do you know magic?” a voice near her said. Jessik jumped as she spun around, looking for the owner of the voice. Looking down, she saw it was a portly youth clutching a stuffed owlbear. He was pointing to her hair. 

“Yes…but this is natural for me.” She replied sheepishly. His eyes went wide. He was about to speak again when a young girl grabbed him and dragged him away. Jessik smiled and waved back at him as he was dragged away. The tension in her shoulders melted as she realized she could actually live here safely. 

The first thing she needed to do was get something to eat. Her stomach made a loud growing noise as she caught the scent of meat grilling. 

“Hungry?” A voice rumbled behind her. In her panic at a second person sneaking up on her, she leapt into the air, spinning around, wide eyed. She held herself in the air as the large half orc woman laughed. “I’m not going to hurt you. I was on my way to get something to eat. I could use the company.” She held out a hand. Jessik looked the woman over. The half orc was nearly a foot taller than her. As she levitated, they were basically eye to eye. She was wearing a red cape and carried a large brass instrument that looked like it could change sizes. “Name’s Tolva.”

“Jessik. I’m new here.” Jessik slowly drifted back to the ground. 

“Are you a mage?” Tolva asked, motioning her new friend along with her.

“Prospective mage. I can levitate on my own.” Tolva nodded and lead Jessik to a small stall to get some filling meat on a stick.

"Prospective? Well, how about we stick together? I've got your meal this time to commemorate our new friendship." They smiled as they took large bites, juices running down their chins.


	19. The Tiefling

Ojawhe walked out of the temple. It was early in the morning. The sun hadn’t even broken the horizon, but the low light in the plaza was no hindrance to him. As a devotee to the goddess of the hearth, it was his duty to travel around to Waterdeep’s shelters and vendors, offering his services to start up any hearth they needed lit. Many of the taverns had their own mages who could light the fire, but there were many more places where people had no magic. 

He always refused payment for his service, as this was the calling of his Goddess. He also enjoyed that he as getting some time to relax. Ever since his family had been killed in Neverwinter for being Teiflings, he had never felt at home anywhere, even with the hermits who raised him. They were nice, but all humans and half-elves. Here at least, he could have some anonymity. 

Even though anonymity came hard for someone who had helped defeat the dragon cult and had helped prevent Tiamat’s return. Still, he felt good being treated without any hero worship. He was walking along to his first stop when he heard some voices in an alleyway. Not trying to be stealthy, having learned long ago he had no stealthy bones in his body, he walked over to the alleyway where the sounds were coming from. 

“I said no. We are not having any part of this.” A deep voice rumbled. 

“Either you do this job to pay off your debts, or…” Another voice said, leaving the other option unspoken. Looking down the alley, Ojawhe saw a group of similarly dressed humans surrounding a half orc and a Genasi. One of the larger men, still a few inches shorter than the half-orc, was leaning in, twirling a bit of the Genasi’s hair. “Look, I don’t want to take your debts out on you, but I have loaned you too much to let it slide by, and you haven’t paid enough of it back.”

“Bull. We payed back a quarter in coin and we have been doing jobs for you for weeks. We should be close to paying off our debt!” The half-orc pushed him off her companion. There were metallic rasps as all four of the humans drew their blades.

“Put the weapon’s down before you get hurt.” Ojawhe enhanced his voice with a quick use of Thaumaturgy. Even though it came out in the normal, emotionless tones he used, the volume was amplified to shake the group of six. 

“Move off short stuff before you get hurt.” One of the men said. Sighing inwardly, Ojawhe walked over to them, shield still slung on his back. Grabbing the closest of the rogues by his belt, the short Teifling lifted him off the ground. 

“I said, drop your weapons and leave.” Ojawhe’s voice was still calm. One of the other rogues slid forwards, thrusting his blade.

“Looks like it’s not your day, hero.” The man spat. Ojawhe leaned back, the sword only grazing his bare midriff. As the man’s blade brakes skin, Ojawhe’s hand flew out as a backhand and the man immolated into a burnt corpse. Bringing his hand back for a forehand slap, a small ball of fire appeared and he slammed it into the rogue he was holding. The man ignited and Ojawhe dropped the corpse. 

Turning back to the other rogues, he slid the shield onto his arm and brought the heavy edge forwards in a blow that shattered half the bones in the man's chest. The diamonds in the chain around his body glowed light purple as a light purple fire poker formed in the air and skewered the fourth rogue. 

When he looked back to the final two rogues, he was surprised to see one on the ground, his neck broken, and the other was suffocating in a small whirlwind created by the Genasi. Seeing that Ojawhe was no longer occupied, the Genasi dismissed the spell. The rogue fell, sputtering and gasping. Ojawhe quickly cuffed the rogue before looking to the two standing figures.

“Thank you for your assistance. May I ask as to why you are associating with these men?” Ojawhe looked at them, his cobalt eyes taking in every detail of the scene. 

“Not all of us are rich.” Tolva pointed to Ojawhe’s flame motif chain belt that was studded with diamonds in the braziers set along its length. 

“I know that, but that doesn’t answer my question. Besides, I only have this for spell components.” Ojawhe shrugged.

“We needed money, and they were the only ones who would help us.” The Genasi said nervously. “We tried not to do anything too bad.” 

Ojawhe looked at them and shrugged. “I believe you. Help me take this one to the guard station and we can work on your prospects.” He looked up at them. Standing at only five feet, he was nearly half a foot smaller than the Genasi, and a foot and a half smaller than the half-orc. Still his presence was enough to get them to comply. 

“And you aren’t going to turn us in?” The Genasi asked.

“Why would I do that?” Ojawhe replied. 

“She’s a half orc. I’m a half elemental. Most people don’t trust us.” Her voice was a murmur. They stepped out of the alleyway into the light of the early morning. The Genasi’s eyes went wide with what she saw. A Tiefling with plate armor on his forearms and shins and tight leather shorts. He had a large shield on his back and a club handing from his hip. His skin was a dark purple, with his hair only a lighter shade. A long, saurian tail flicked out behind him while a pair of backwards curved, ridged horns adorned his head.

“I don’t see that as enough reason to get anyone in trouble. Do you?” There was a small smile dancing in his eyes. The Genasi and half orc smiled. “Come on, this will put me behind on my rounds, but with your help, I may be able to finish on time.”


	20. The Dwarf

The dwarf sat on his chair, unlit pipe in one hand and a book in the other. The fireplace was radiating heat next to him as he looked through the memories of his past adventures. His grey beard was braided into thin braids. Even with that, it had to be tucked into his belt to keep him from tripping over it. After a few minutes, he hefted himself to his feat and leaned towards the fire, reaching for a small punk to light his pipe. Just as he was about to grab the punk, there was a knock on the door. 

A smile spread under his beard as he walked to the door and opened it. In burst a draft of cold, snowy air, followed by a tumble of small bodies, and lastly followed up by larger bodies. “Come in, come in! It be freezin’ out there.” The dwarf said merrily. He closed the door behind them, taking coats off and bringing them to hang by one of the fire places to dry. 

“How’s our favorite curmudgeon?” A towering half-orc asked.

“I be warmin’ by the fire. Not much else to do in such weather.” The dwarf went to the kitchen. “Haven’t gone on an adventure in years. No need for the money and too stiff to swing my ax well. Want anything?”

“Some warm herbals for the children.” A medicatedly calm voice came wafting from the sitting room. The dwarf harrumphed. There was some whispered conversation from the other room. “Fine, they can have some mulled cider.” The dwarf laughed in triumph. Filling a large tray with steins of warmed, mulled cider, he brought it into the sitting room. There were four children of various ages making themselves cozy on chairs and sofas. One of them scurried to hide under one of the decorated trees, trying to hide among the boughs. 

The dwarf passed out the mugs to each of the three adults and the four children, the two largest going to himself and the massive half-orc. He took his seat near the fire. The moment he sat down, the child from under the tree sprang out and jumped, landing squarely on his lap. He was a small Eladrin child, his pointed ears turned slightly towards the dwarf so they could pick up every word, eyes wide to not miss anything. 

“Grampa Kustin, can you tell us a story?” The young boy asked. The dwarf smiled and picked up his pipe. He heard the Genasi woman clear her throat.

“Don’t go blustering about,” he grumbled. “It ain’t lit. I haven’t lit up for the past day knowing you were coming.” The Genasi woman stuck a tongue out at him. He turned back to the little boy. “So, what story do you want to know?”

“Tell us how you met Mama, Aunty, and Uncle.” He asked.

“You always want to hear that one, Efond.” A fire Genasi girl rolled her eyes. “And it’s always the same answer. ‘You’re too young’.” She sarcastically mocks.

“Perhaps you should tell them, ‘Gramps’.” The half orc chuckled. She pulled out a mandolin and started making sure it was tuned for story telling.

Kustin smiled and leaned back. “Well, it was a day very similar to this one…” He started, eyes looking off into the distance. The fire Genasi was about to make a sarcastic remark when his gaze fixed on her. She had the sense to look abashed and kept quiet. With a smile, he continued. “It was a cold and snowy day. I had been out on a quest, trying to save some poor village from a marauding beast. Little did I know that I was starting on a most epic quest. I was little older than you.” He looked at the fire Genasi. “I had just gotten my ax and shield and was determined to make a name for myself. But before I can start on the quest, you need to know how I got my ax…” Kustil’s memory flew back to the day he had earned his ax and shield.

 

Kustil was shaken awake by a rough hand and his mother’s voice. “Come on, wake up! It’s the Day of Sundering.” That made Kustil shoot awake more than anything else. He had been preparing for this day for the last twenty years. He rolled off his bed and quickly got dressed in his best combat clothing. He reached for the mattock that all candidates carried. 

“I’m ready, I’m ready.” He stumbled from the room, trying to finish tying his boots as he ran from the room. 

“You need some breakfast.” His mother shouted after him. “It’s in your mug!” Shouting a thanks over his shoulder, Kustil grabbed the stein sitting on the table. Still running out of the door, he took a swig. It was Hammerhaft wake up brew. He smiled to himself and promised that he would make his mother proud. Wake up brew was one of the breakfast ales dwarves made, and was fairly common, but Hammerhaft made the best brew and each miniature keg was very expensive. The fact that his mother splurged on this for him swelled his heart with love.

Even though he felt he was going to be late, he arrived nearly half an hour early. He was one of the first to arrive. Finishing his ale, he stored the mug in his cubby and started his warm ups. He had been tested for years in tactics, warfare, and weapons. Now, he was making his attempt to join the Varangar. This was one of the elite fighting formations for his hold and being part of it meant that he could wield one of their famed bearded axes. 

He knew his family would support him even if he failed his trial, but he had no interest in joining his brothers and sisters in working in the family smeltery and forge. He was a poor hand when it came to artistic crafting, although he made a decent salesman. It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to travel, and being part of the Varangar would allow him to do so. If he failed, he could always join the clan guard. While he wouldn’t travel as much, he would still be doing something he was good at, fighting. 

As the morning progressed, more and more dwarves of all levels of society arrived, each of them preparing in their own way. No one wanted to talk to any of the others, as it could throw their concentration. They were all had their mattocks out. Everyone knew this final challenge was a fight. It was what the Varangar did, wasn’t it? 

The candidates went in as groups of 10. Each was given a unique challenge to fight. Sometimes people died, but most of the time they just left with injuries, both to their bodies and their pride as they were turned away. There was no guarantee that any of them would be chosen, but more often than not, a few were chosen. It had been years since no one had been chosen. Although everyone feared it would be their year that no one got picked. 

They heard the crowds as most of the hold filed into the waiting area. This was such an important event that it was a holiday, so everyone could come and watch. Each candidate’s stadium number was marked days beforehand so people knew which stadium exit to go to in order to watch their family and friends come out after their Sundering. Kustil had been saddened to learn that he was the last person to go in Stadium 13. Stadium 13 was known as a meat grinder. Out of all of the stadiums, that one had the most deaths over the years, with at least 2 candidates dead per year. 

As the hours wore on, the number of candidates in the room dwindled. With each group that left, the butterflies in Kustil’s stomach seemed to spawn a new generation, filling him more and more with dread. He forced himself to eat lunch, tasteless and cloying as it felt. Finally, it was his turn. 

Grabbing the mattock, he marched slowly to his stadium. Every step echoed loudly in his ears as if he was making a death march. His knees were practically shaking by the time he got to the doors. Slowly, his hand rose and he pushed the door open. Inside was a warren of tree roots. Hefting the mattock, he walked forwards to the small stone stand with a piece of paper on it. On the paper was his quest.

“You have been sent to stop the raids on a local village. Monsters from the local woods have been attacking those who leave too far from the village.”

Simple and straight forwards. The rest of the information on the sheet was statistics about the town. On a whim, he looked on the back of the paper.

“The world above is one of change and adaptation. In here, you need to learn to adapter to survive.” 

His brow wrinkled. Adapt to survive? What was that supposed to mean? Did he have to find a new way to fight? Hefting his mattock, he set off. 

Wandering through the tunnels of roots, he searched for his quarry. Finally, he came out on top of the roots and surveyed it terrain. There were hills of roots and tunnels of branches. There was no indication of any other creature. Warily, he started moving off, mattock ready for anything. 

After nearly an hour of walking, he still hadn’t seen anyone. Confused as to why he did not see anyone, he shouted, “Hey, I know you’re here. Come on out!” Before the echo’s of his words had finished, he saw a group of creatures appear. They were a mix of woodland creatures, many of them sporting injuries. 

He felt a blade press to his back. On instinct, he rolled forwards, his mattock flying out behind him in a defensive maneuver. Rolling to his feet, weapon braced in front of him, he saw there was a wood elf behind him, a long curved blade pointed at him.

“I take it you’re the one sending these animals to kill the people of the town.” He growled out, coiling to attack. The elf did not reply. They merely stood there, haughty eyes glaring at him. “Why?” He asked. 

“Why?” The Elf spat at him. “These people have been destroying the homes of these creatures. They are nothing but thieving worms!” Kustil looked over his shoulder at all of the animals sneaking up on him. He needed to get to the other side of the elf so that all of his opponents were in front when the fight started. “They have done nothing than destroy this forest, and now it is their turn.”

He had to keep the elf talking. His father had always told him to keep his enemy talking to look for an opportunity. Although it was for sales, he hoped the principle worked here. “Always? Hasn’t this town been around for generations? Why didn’t you get rid of them before?” He relaxed his posture and took a few tentative steps as he asked his question. The elf’s blade lowered.

“No, not always. At least, not like this. Of course the town has been taking from the forest before, but recently, they have been leaving trees broken, animals lying dead, and the ground spoiled. We used to have an agreement, but they have broken it.” She raised her blade. “And now they send their champion to dispatch me and take what they want.” 

He felt dread flow through him as he felt the tremor as the animals picked up speed. Running forwards, he rolled past the elf and got ready to fight. Something in the elf’s words caught him as he got ready to charge. “Wait!” The elf took a step back, confused. Feeling her confusion, the animal’s charge dissolved into a mass of milling animals. He found his opening. ‘Get to know your opponent’s point of view, maybe you can find what they need. This will always make a loyal customer.’ his father always told him. “I’m only here to make sure the attacks on villagers stops. I’d rather not kill you if I don’t have to.”

“I will never surrender as long as those villagers continue to defile this forest.” The spat, moving forwards. Her blade licked forwards. Kustin barely blocked it in time. 

“Wait, maybe we can work something out with the villagers.” He grunted as he blocked an overhanded chop. “Maybe they forgot their deal. Humans are short lived and forgetful. It could be a mistake they must pay penance for.”

“It is no mistake. Believe me!” The elf flicked a feint to him and slashed across Kustil’s back, opening a large, but shallow, gash. 

“If it is no mistake, then tell me what has happened there, as my fight is not with you.” Kustil grunted. “I need to end the raids, but if the raids are because if what the town is doing, we need to fix what is happening there.”

 

“What happened next Grampa Kustil?” The Eldarin child asked. Kustil shook his beard and looked around. He had been quiet for a few minutes, lost in what happened next in the town. He didn’t want to tell them that part…not yet.

“Well, it was all an illusion. They didn’t want to see how well I could fight. They were looking for who could think and adapt quickly. See, the Varangar are not just a combat unit, but we are also diplomats. They want only the people who can think on their feet, not just with their weapons.” He looked around, seeing he had everyone’s attention, even the willful fire Genasi. 

“And that is what I was doing when I met the others. I was on a mission for the Varangar. Trying to find out what was going on around the village and the animals nearby.” He put the young ELadrin on the ground. “But that story will come after dinner is served. So, who’s hungry?”


	21. Wizard

Jessik smiled as she looked at the house they had inherited. One of their contracts paid off very handsomely. Their benefactor had left them one of their houses. It was in a village a full day’s travel from Waterdeep. It was an old house and didn’t seem to be in the best of condition. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years. But the reason she smiled was that there was a tall tower that had large windows. 

“I call the tower.” Jessik said immediately, using her Auran heritage to lift her through the air and into the tower. Looking around the tower, she notices it was two stories tall. The top level had a lot of large windows in it and some built into shelves. Creeping down the spiral stairs, she saw the lower level had fewer windows, but held a dresser, a cabinet, a large vanity, and a bed. Everything in the two rooms were old and musty. 

Smiling wickedly, she started casting spells. A few light spells and an unseen servant to help her, and she threw open all of the windows that weren’t broken. Setting up a small enchantment, she started beating out the rugs and blankets, the wind blowing through carrying all of the dust out. Moving to the weakened floor, she started casting mending, healing the damaged wood. There was a knock on her door.

“Hey, Princess,” Tolva called out, using the nickname she had affectionately given Jessik, “Think you can give us a hand cleaning and repairing out here, and not just your rooms?”

“I can’t hear you Mumbles.” Jessik shouted back, teasing Tolva. “Maybe once I’m done in here I can help you there.” 

It took them a full week, even with magic, to finish the small repairs the house needed. Kustil had taken the basement, feeling more at home underground than above ground. Tolva had taken the large suite on the second floor, giddy over the fact that she had rooms befitting someone who was someone. There were three other bedrooms, but they remained empty. It took them a few days to realize that Ojawhe slept near the large hearth in the common room. 

Jessik spent most of the next week setting up the upper floor to be her study and observatory. One of the windows was broken, letting a draft in. While Jessik enjoyed the breeze, after the first rain she was determined to replace the window. Cleaning up and drying off everything without damaging it took her nearly a whole day, even with Ojawhe providing his goddess’s fire to help. 

As time went on between their adventures, Jessik added more and more to her tower, replacing the broken window with a scrying glass. She added shelf after shelf to all the available space in both rooms, filling them with books and scrolls and other esoteric arcana. The people from the town started coming to her for small spells, often divination or enchanting any of their equipment. 

One day, Jessik was looking up at the evening sky on top of her tower when someone came for a special order. He called up to her and asked if she were still open for business. Mentally shrugging, she floated down to the ground.

“I heard that you can make potions…I need one.” The young man asked, looking around nervously. 

“I think you want the cleric for that…” Jessik hoped she had read the man correctly. He grimaced.

“No, that fiend wouldn’t understand what I want. I need someone as lively as you.” He said, wringing his hands together. Jessik took a step back, her combat honed senses tingling. “I need a love potion.” 

Jessik would have laughed if she hadn’t been taken aback. “No, why would I make something like that?” The question was rhetorical, but the man seemed ready with an answer. Rather than let him answer, she continued. “No, don’t. I don’t want to know why you want it, but you can be sure that I will make the town aware that you were planning on using a love potion.”

“And why would you do that?” He sneered. “You’re not a priest. What do you care about what I do with it?”

“I will not make it for you.” Her eyes flashed with lighting, wind whipping around her body, the air frosting over. “And that is final.” Her words were punctuated with a crack of thunder. The man’s eyes had gone wide with terror. He turned tail and ran, tripping over his own feet in his haste to be away from the wizard.


	22. Ranger

Kustil looked at the ground, stroking his braided beard. The scuffle had happened over a day ago, but he could still read the signs on the ground clearly. Whoever was here last did nothing to cover their tracks. His companions waited outside of the clearing, as to not disturb any of the signs. He kept looking up to make sure that their wizard wasn’t hovering over him. She loved to hover in the air, watching him as he worked. It frustrated him to no end, which is probably why she liked to do it. Can’t trust an air spirit to not pull pranks.

Seeing she was busy making not to subtle glances at the cleric, Kustil chuckled. He walked over to the rest of the party. “Well, it seems whatever we’re chasing made its way through here, but it looks like another creature joined it. At least, that was the case an hour ago. Let’s hope nothing else has joined them.” He headed off after the tracks, his companions following closely. 

They travelled for another couple of hours before they came upon signs of another scuffle. “Hmm, something’s not right here.” Kustil said, looking at the tracks. “Whatever these creatures are chasing must have angered someone, there is now a third of these large Ursin chasing it.” He stood up, hands on his hips. “Good news is…” There was a unearthly scream from the right, only a few hundred feet away. “We are so close.” Pulling out his bearded ax and dirk, Kustil charged off into the woods. 

He could hear the rest of his party coming through the woods behind him, not as adapt at moving through the forest quietly as he was. Bursting out from the foliage, he came across an odd scene. There were three bear-like creatures in the clearing. Each one had a second head and was nearly half again as large as a normal black bear. They were surrounding a deer-like creature. Somehow, they had cornered it into an area thick with thorny vines that had caught one of the creature’s antlers. Unlike a normal deer, this one had multicolored, crystal antlers, metallic looking hooves, was the size of a small moose, and had a pure white pelt spotted with purple markings. It was these hooves and the remaining free antler that were keeping the Ursins at bay.

Knowing these were the creatures that had been released by the mad mage on the local area, he charged forwards, arms in close. When he got near the first Ursin, his ax and dirk flashed out, the blades cutting the tendons on its hind legs. It spun with an agility he hadn’t expected from something so bulky, especially with its tendons cut. It’s paw lashed out and he barely brought his weapons up in time to block the blow. 

The force of the blow sent him flying into a tree. Shaking his head, Kustil took back to his feet and ran back into combat. He spared a glance at the deer-like creature to notice the other two Ursins were moving closer with the additional confusion. The only way to save the creature would be to release it from the vines. His companions were too far behind to stop both. Summoning all of his strength, Kustil sprinted forwards and jumped, his muscles propelled by his need to get around this Ursin. The bear reared up and snapped at him, missing him by inches as he brought his ax down into the tangled vines, chopping most of them away. His dirk flashed out and cut the remaining strands away. 

Rather than bolting, the deer-like creature stomped its feet and snorted, turning its back to Kustil and lowered its antlers. Understanding what the creature was doing, Kustil turned his back to it, determines to guard its rear. 

With a cacophonous roar, Tolva and Jessik came into the clearing, a Thunderwave booming out with bolts of lightning lashing into the flanks of the Ursins. Holy fire surrounded the hamstrung Ursin, killing it under the deluge of the magical assault.

Seeing the tide turn, Kustil and the deer-like creature sprang forwards, each attacking the surprised Ursin in front of them. With a quick pincer motion, Kustil brought his ax down on one of the heads while his dirk arced up into the other head, punching into the brain. The creature fell as if poleaxed, both of its brains destroyed. 

Spinning around, he saw the two beasts trading blows. The deer-like creature’s crystal horns were covered in blood as it pushed the Ursin back. However, the fight was not going all against the Ursin. It had scored more than a dozen cuts along its opponent’s white flanks and had caught one of the antlers in one of its mouths. Knowing he could not run over in time, Kustil dropped his dirk, and with both hands, flung his bearded ax at the other head. 

The Varangar ax was made to be used in melee combat, but the beard gave it the proper balance for being thrown in the right circumstances. The large ax hummed as it cut through the air, slamming deeply into the Ursin’s shoulder. With a massive bellow, it released the antler, which found itself buried in the Ursin’s chest moments later. 

Going over to the dead creature, Kustil wrenched his ax from the body and looked at the deer-like creature. Getting a closer look, he realized the creature did not seem natural. As his companions came over, Jessik let out a gasp and ran forwards. 

“That’s from the Elemental Plane between Earth and water, near the Prime Material plane. I’ve heard these referred to as Xernats.” The creature looked at her, then back at Kustil. Moving slowly, it came closer and sniffed the dwarf.

“What ever they call it, this one is Hzkad gal Ketzta.” He stroked its nose. “Means ‘glittering foe-killer’ in my people’s language.”

“Can we just call it Glitter?” Jessik asked as Ojawhe moved forwards to heal the creature. The Xernats tossed its head.

“I’ll take that as a yes, Glitter.” Kustil smiled. He chuckled at little as it poked its nose into his chest, rubbing him with its face. “Well, lets get to work making use of these.” He motioned to the Ursin. He patted Glitter’s side, happy with his new companion.


	23. Cleric

Kustil let out a cry of pain as the raider’s ax arced down, cutting through his armor and into his flesh. Lashing out with a quick flick of his wrist, his bearded ax dug deep into the raider’s rib cage, dropping the man to the ground like a limp sack of bones. With a reverse flick of his wrist, he pulled the ax from the man and got back into position. A mace slammed into the small of his back, sending him sprawling forwards. 

Ojawhe looked over at the sound of anguish, taking an eye off his opponent. He saw Kustil go down. Disengaging from his opponent, Ojawhe ran over and interposed himself between the raider and the prone Kustil. 

“Warmth of the hearth.” Ojawhe whispers, recalling the short phrase for a minor healing spell. The magic flowed to Kustil, knitting together the damaged tissues and suffusing him with a comforting warmth. As he cast the spell, the raider’s mace slammed off his shield, bending the mace slightly. 

Kustil jumped back into the combat, barely regaining his feet by the time his ax came down onto another raider’s head. A pair of bolts shrieked towards him, one grazing his leg and the next bouncing off his helm, shaking him up and causing him to drop the dirk in his off hand.

Ojawhe groaned. He always felt the best defense was a good offense, but it was now time to be defensive and keep healing. Turning around, he saw Tolva standing over Jessik, beating off some of the raiders with her gauntleted fists. Her forearms were covered in long gashes, blood flowing down to encase her arms in red, both hers and her enemies. Jessik was holding one hand over a large gash in her leg while she tried to send a gout of flame into the raiders with crossbows. 

“Spirits of fire, guard my friends.” Calling upon his spiritual guardians, Ojawhe released a burst of ethereal purple flame. Coming to life around him were small, thin, four foot constructs made of wood, reeds, coal, and oil, all of them on fire and just as ethereal as the fire that spawned them. The spiritual guardians quickly spread out and killed the remaining raiders in melee combat with his companions. 

The crossbow armed raiders turned their fire on Ojawhe, thinking if they killed him that the rest of his part would go down easily. The bolts shattered on his shield, the pieces falling harmlessly to the ground. Seeing their shots were ineffective, the raiders turned tail and started to run. Digging his feet into the ground, Ojawhe was about to run after them when the memory of his injured companions came to his mind. 

Checking himself before he rushed off, he turned back to his companions. “May the fires cleanse your pains.” With a quick motion of his free hand, flames jetted out to his companions, hitting their injures and searing them with a wash of blissful warmth. With their wounds knitted back together, his companions took off after the remaining raiders, intent on wiping out the band of malcontents. 

Running after them, Ojawhe only arrived to see the last of the raiders fall to a small zap of lightning from Jessik’s outstretched hands. Looking around, he saw that once again, Kustil had a bolt in his shoulder, Jessik had a bruise on one eye, and Tolva had a small knife stuck into her side. With an internalized sigh, he walked over to each of them healing them. 

Jessik looked at him from her one good eye as he approached, having already kept Tolva’s guts inside of her and making sure Kustil didn’t gain a new limb. “Sorry. I guess a cleric’s work is never done?” She winced as the smile hurt the bruises on her face. 

“No, I guess it never is.” He handed her a pair of small berries. “This will heal your injures.” He turned and started helping the others to look through the bodies, seeing what information and wealth they could find. Jessik’s eyes flashed a little with jealousy. He touched the other’s wounds, but he just handed her some berries. Huffing, she ate the berries and sighed as her pains went away. She figured she could forgive him this time.


	24. Bard

Tolva put her horn down and took a quaff from her tankard. She had been playing for the past few hours and the night was almost done. Her head was getting light and her fingers were getting stiff. This wasn’t anything new to her, this had been going on for the past year when she performed and practiced. She looked into the audience as she took another drink from her cup. She could pick out her friends from any crowd at this point, but their presence did not ease her worries tonight.

She had been contacted by her college and they had a mission for her. She probably shouldn’t have told her companions about it, but she wanted to feel their presence around her. Continuing to scan the crowd, she finally found her target. The target was an elven judge, slightly portly, short black hair, a crooked smile, and a nose red from too much drink. 

Her superiors knew he was corrupt and on someone’s payroll. What they didn’t know was whose payroll he was on. Her job was to get the information from him in a way that his employer wouldn’t know the information had been taken. The easiest way she could think of was to solicit him. She had plenty of experience there, and with her friends around it would be a lot safer than when she solicited professionally. 

Walking to the bar, she made sure to swing her hips invitingly, making sure to get to the bar where the judge was drinking. Tolva sent up a small prayer for the large crowd so that she only had to swing her hips for a few steps. Walking like that felt awkward at the best of times. At least she didn’t hear the laughter of her friends as she tried to entice this man. 

“Can I get a refill?” She asked the barkeep, head lolling carelessly, exposing her neck to the judge. She shuddered as she noticed him taking in her frame. She could tell he saw her as some exotic meat for him to try. Swallowing her pride and personal feelings, she smiled at him. “Like anything?” 

“Only if I can get some.” He smiled back, the alcohol reeking from his breath. “It’s no good as just eye candy.”

“Then today is your lucky night.” She motioned for the bartender to get the judge another drink. “I’ll be done shortly.”

“Good. I have places to be, so I don’t want to be kept waiting.” The man winked lustily at her. 

As she made her way back to the stage, a hand touched her arm just at the elbow. A small flash of pale purple light caught her eye and she looked down at Ojawhe. “Protection from disease and poison.” He said. “In case that man’s lecherousness is infectious.” She smiled at him. They all knew she wasn’t going to sleep with him, just get him to pass out. The fact that Ojawhe would use some energy to make a joke helped relax her. 

A few hours later and Tolva was standing out back with the rest of her party, holding her outer clothing out to Jessik. “Clean these again, I can still feel him touching them.” Jessik rolled her eyes and cast her spell, cleaning the clothing again. “Thank you!” The nearly naked Amazonian bard crushed Jessik in her embrace before getting dressed and telling everyone what she had learned. 

“Look, this is my task and I can’t ask you to come with me…” She started.

“Of course you can.” Kustil interrupted. 

“…but I feel better with you all along.” She smiled at the dwarf. With a slap of her meaty paw on his shoulder, she sent him sprawling. Chuckling, she led them off to the judge’s meeting in his stead. It took them only ten minutes to find the right alley in Waterdeep. 

While the rest of the group waited in the shadows and around the corner, Tolva waited in the alleyway, leaning against the wall. After a minute, the contact approached.

“Who are you?” The elf asked, staying in the shadows.

“The judge was indisposed tonight, so he had me come in his stead. Just because he’s not doing well now doesn’t mean he can’t fulfil his duties.” She smirked. The elf nodded and stepped forwards. He was wearing loose fitting clothing and a mask over the lower half of his face. He handed her a slip of paper and continued walking, exiting into the street and disappearing into the crowds. 

Looking at the paper, Tolva smiled. “Whisper Mistress Vanya will be happy with this.” Her thumb touched the Zhent symbol and the house symbol she didn’t recognize. “We are going to get so much good food.”


	25. Critters

Jessik popped her head over the ledge and looked at the next shelf. She shuddered at the carpet of scorpions that awaited them. She shivered as she saw all of those poisoned stingers. Most of them were the size of her hand or smaller, but every twenty yards or so there was an enormous scorpion, as large as a horse with a tail nearly twice as long. All of them were currently basking in the sun. Floating back down to her party, she reported what she saw.

“Blaze Sting scorpions.” Kustil informed them. “Most things would be hiding from a heat this powerful, but they love it. The more sun they get, the larger they become. The large ones you saw must be at least a dozen years old.”

“Don’t scorpion stings get more deadly the smaller the creature gets?” Tolva asked.

“Normally,” Kustil admitted. “But with there, it is opposite. As they absorb more and more sunlight, their poison becomes for concentrated. Those horse sized ones can kill a small giant.” He chewed on his upper lip, twirling a braid through his fingers. “See any way around them?”

Jessik shook her head. “The entire next level is covered in them. There isn’t even space to place a foot down without stepping on one.”

“Crap, that’s our only way up, and not all of us can fly.” Kustil looked at Jessik, who gave him a bashful smile. “Does anyone have a way to get rid of them?”

“I can summon a large swarm of insects.” Ojawhe’s careful monotone cut in. “Draw them to one side in a feeding frenzy?” The others looked at him, then Kustil. Eventually, the Ranger shrugged.

“It may work. We don’t have anything to lose.” With a small smile, Ojawhe pulled himself to just below the next ledge and cast the spell. A large swarm of biting and stinging insects erupted in the middle of the scorpion nest. The scorpions near the middle woke up instantly, finding themselves under attack from an unknown source. The ones on the outside were slower to wake, but eventually, all of them were awake and piling into the middle, trying to kill and gorge themselves on the insects. As the last one died, Ojawhe cast the spell again and motioned for his companions to join him. 

Slowly, they snuck across the ledge, attempting to outpace the Scorpion horde’s hunger. As they were pulling Tolva up, they all heard a loud chittering. Looking back ,they saw the scorpions heading toward them in a wave of chitin and flesh. The stinger on one of the larger ones just missed Tolva as she rolled onto the higher ledge. The stinger slammed off the wall, causing a small hiss as the stone melted. 

Letting go of Tolva, Ojawhe brought down a pillar of fire onto the scorpions. When the fire finally dissipated, they noticed that only some of the smaller ones had died.

“They resist fire. They are freaking sun scorpions!” Kostin’s exasperation was clear. “Why is your solution always fire?” 

“Don’t be too hard on him.” Jessik replied, pulling out an orb now that Tolva was on the ledge. “He follows a goddess of the flame.” Speaking words of power, she placed her thumbs together and with a substitution of one word, sprays of ice rather than fire shot from her fingertips. Most of the scorpions climbing the wall froze solid. Those that didn’t were stuck behind the frozen corpses of their fellows. “Now, with them held at bay, can we please continue? I’m not a fan of ground bugs.”


	26. Pickpocket

Tolva cursed as she watched the rest of her party get pinched. They were being cuffed and dragged away. There were still soldiers looking around for anyone who seemed to be out of place. She kept running, hoping that they would be ok while she found somewhere to lie low and break them free. 

She cursed that damn bratty noble. She knew that he had tried to grab something from her back pouch. She had felt a large hand move the pouch and end up on her ass. When she turned and confronted him, he claimed he would never sully himself with her. The only people behind her with hands that large were him and Kustil, and she knew Kustil only went for men. When she pointed that out, he laughed cruelly. Knowing it was a stupid idea, she clenched her fist and punched him. 

What ensued was a large brawl. Somehow, she had made it to the edge of the fight, which covered the entire town square now. As the town guard came, they started arresting everyone. Tolva, even with her immense bulk and size, was able to sneak away. The rest of her party was unfortunate enough to be arrested. But what made her even angrier was that the noble who had groped her was being let go. 

Tolva laid low for two days before trying to find her friends. It wasn’t too hard. Everyone from the brawl was set in stocks along the main road leading from the town up to the castle of the local lord. She spared a thought for the fact that, even though a lot of people were arrested, there were still some empty stocks. She walked over to her friends and rested on Jessik’s stock. All of them looked fairly healthy, and so did all of the prisoners near Ojawhe. 

“Well, you look well rested.” Kustil grumbled up at Tolva. 

“Sorry.” Tolva lowered her chin, her contrition evident in her voice. 

“Nah, it’s not yer fault.” Kustil replied, his voice gentler. “It’s that noble jerk who was grabbing you.” He struggled in the stocks. “Think you can break us out?” 

“Nah, I like seeing you all bent over like this.” Tolva chuckled, giving Jessik’s stock a slap. “Besides, I’d probably get caught and we would all be in here.” She looked at the locks. “Now, If I had the keys, and a uniform, I might be able to without getting in there with you.”

“Please.” Jessik pleased, giving her a largest doe eyes she could manage. Tolva chuckled and ruffled her hair. 

“I’m on it. Especially since I’m the one who started it. And maybe I can get that noble back too.” Tolva whistled as she walked up to the keep. “Oh, and because I can read context, Here is a small image for you, Ojawhe, maybe to help you along.” She created an illusion of Ojawhe standing behind Jessik. With a wink, the illusionary tiefling started making obscene motions with his hips, directly behind Jessik. Ojawhe blushed heavily and looked away, trying not to watch. 

“What’s happening?” Jessik asked, completely oblivious to the image behind her.

“And illusion of Ojawhe is rutting you like mad.” Kustil barked out in laughter. The laughs of the other prisoners made both of them blush even more. 

 

Tolva was amazed how lax security at the keep was. She had pulled out her instruments and removed some of the more conservative clothing on her body. After seeing her instruments and her Amazonian body, the guards had just let her in. Now it was just an issue of finding the guard house and the keys. Wandering around the keep, she looked into many of the rooms. None of the servants asked her where she was going, and some even gave her directions to the rooms of specific nobles or the great hall. 

She was getting a good layout of the place when a voice caused her to jump into hiding. Looking out from around the column, she saw the same noble from the day before, this time in a guard captain’s uniform. From the way he was talking to the other guards, he was in charge. Of course that’s why he got away free. She was going to have to think of a way to get some pay back. 

Slinking away, she headed into the closest of the noble rooms. Closing the door silently, she took a look around the delicately decorated room. She could tell it was a lady’s room, specifically, it looked like a maiden’s room. She felt a stab of pity for the girl. She wasn’t going to get much pleasure in her love life, so she might as well have some excitement. Grabbing a monogramed and clearly distinct bracelet, she headed back to the door. As she got to the door, something on the small table caught her eye. It was the key to the room. Smiling maliciously, she took the key and added it to the bracelet. 

Walking back to the entrance, she came across the noble again. He glared at her as she walked forwards. “You have a lot of nerve coming here. Arrest her.” He turned to the other guards. She walked right up to him, running one hand down his shoulder and arm.

“Don’t be like that. I’m sure you wouldn’t like Duke Lasia’s entertainment for the night to be ruined.” She put a pout into her words and stepped closer. The noble was short enough that Tolva’s breasts were roughly eye level for him. At this time, she leaned them closer to him. “Maybe I can be your entertainment for now.”

“I would never sully myself with anyone with orc-blood.” He sneered. 

She continued to smile at him. Using her now hidden hand, she slipped the ring of keys off their hook, replacing them with the room key and the bracelet. “Not a fan of taller women? Perhaps you need her to be smaller and inexperienced to be good. Such a pity.” Sliding the keys into her side pouch, she sauntered out of the keep.

A few minutes later, she was unlocking her friends. The illusion had faded a while ago, but Jessik and Ojawhe were still blushing hard, neither able to look at the other. Draping her arms around their shoulders, she smiled wickedly at them. “So, have you come to a realization?” 

“Yes, that you are a horrible friend and I shouldn’t tell you any of my secrets or dreams.” Jessik hissed at her. Kustil howled with laughter and slapped Ojawhe on the back. 

“That’s not what I was hoping you would say, but it’s a step in the right direction. Come on, let’s get something to eat.” She tossed the keys to another prisoner’s visitor. “Let them go, no one will stop you.”

They had made it to the center of town when the pounding of hooves behind her caused everyone to turn around. A horse was running down the road, the noble from earlier astride it and throwing a worried look over his shoulder. He gave her a murderous glare as he rode by. He was followed closely by three riders with a different livery on them. Specifically, the livery of the maiden whose bracelet Tolva had pilfered. 

With a cocky smile, Tolva watched the man try to evade capture as they road into the distance. Turning to her friends, she winked at them. “It seems he didn’t like tall women, but was having a tryst with a young maiden.” Stretching, she started walking again. “Come on Kustil, I’ll be your wingman tonight. Also, drinks on me.” She held up a purse and shook the money inside of it.

“Tolva, I gave that to Ojawhe last Wintershield!” Jessik started. She tried to jump and grab the coin pouch. Tolva merely laughed when the Genasi tried to wrest it back from her, finally letting it go as they got to the tavern.


	27. Necromancy

“Why not?” Jessik asked, looking down at the dead body halfway down the hall. “It’s not like he is going to get a decent burial here. And besides, hasn’t his soul already passed on?” She looked imploringly at Ojawhe.

The tiefling sighed as he looked up at the svelte Genasi, her purple eyes looking at him imploringly. They had been in this dungeon for two days already, having to stop often to rest and heal as this place was filled with traps. Ojawhe had taken to going first as no one wanted to deal with the pain of the traps they couldn’t spot and disarm, which were most of them. 

Then they came across this body in a hallway. It was obviously an adventurer who died to the traps, who had come down here alone or had been left by his party. Jessik had the idea to animate the corpse and use it to find all of the traps. Ojawhe had been adamantly against animating that corpse. It just didn’t feel right, as his goddess’s domain was life. 

Jessik had lost her temper when he immediately said no. Ojawhe had to use the remainder of his magic to heal everyone from her angry outburst and Kustil had decided here and now was as good a time as any to rest up. Kustil and Tolva had already gone to sleep, each one trying to out-snore the other. Jessik had stomped off, storm still raging that Ojawhe didn’t even think about her idea. 

Ojawhe tended the fire, staring deep into its depths. He was thinking about how Jessik had reacted. He had been surprised at her idea, and had reacted impulsively. He normally wasn’t one to be impulsive, but the free spirited Genasi brought that out in him. And somehow, he brought out the quick temper in her. She never exploded on anyone except him. 

As he thought, he knew it wasn’t because he had refused her idea that she exploded on them, but that he had dismissed her idea almost immediately. Hanging his head, he pushed himself up and walked over to where she was. It was at that time she had pleaded with him to animate the corpse again. After biting his lower lip for a moment, he nodded. 

“I’m sorry I dismissed your idea immediately. It doesn’t matter my reasons for not wanting to animate the dead, it should have been a discussion. I should not have dismissed you out of hand. I agree, it would be better than you having to suffer through any more pain. When we have finished resting, I will animate my first body.”

Jessik looked at Ojawhe skeptically. “You’ll raise your first one for me? Is it against your tenants? I don’t want to get you in trouble, it would just be easier than walking through all these traps.” Ojawhe nodded. Jessik’s eyes lit up with joy and, in another moment of impulsiveness, leaned forwards and kissed Ojawhe’s cheek. “Thank you for apologizing. I’m going to get some sleep, you take first watch.” She ran off, giddy with everything that had happened. Ojawhe was glad it was dark and that she didn’t have dark vision, otherwise she would see him steaming and blushing. 

Looking down at his feet, he placed his shield on the ground and lit a small fire in the hearth that his metal shield made. Grabbing his auguring dice, he tossed them into the fire. “Will animating this corpse lead to bad results?” They dice showed no woe from this course of action. He smiled, happy that he could raise the corpse with a clear conscience. Looking around to make sure no one was around to hear, he picked the dice up from the fire. “What will happen if I accept this kiss?” He was about to toss the dice when something stopped him. Closing his hand, he put the dice away. 

“No, I think I will have to find that one out myself.” He placed a hand over the cheek that was kissed, and a small smile graced his face.


	28. Swords and Spells

“I can too!” Jessik stomped her foot, lightning crackling around her eyes. She picked up the longsword and turned to face Tolva. “I can handle a sword and protect myself. I don’t need someone to babysit me!” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Tolva said.

“Well, pick up your sword. I’ll show you I can hold my own.” Tolva sighed. Normally very calm, when Jessik’s wind started to blow, she wouldn’t stop till she had worn everyone down. Tolva preferred to punch people, but she was trained to use the long sword. She could see that Jessik, no matter her protestations, had no idea how to actually hold the sword effectively. Pulling out her own sword, she got into position.

Jessik attacked without warning. Tolva was able to parry it with such ease that when the swords met, the vibrations caused Jessik to drop her blade. Growling with frustration, Jessik picked the blade up and swung again. Tolva kept parrying, trying to keep Jessik from dropping the blade again. By the third time Jessik dropped the blade, she let out a scream of anger and fell to her knees. Tolva used the point of her sword and flicked the fallen longsword away. 

“Hey, why are you so determined to use the sword?” Tolva asked, sheathing her sword and putting it down on a bench. She sat next to Jessik and put an arm around the smaller woman’s shoulders. 

“All of you can sling spells and swing swords like its nothing!” Jessik’s anger had subsided. It was eerie to see the squall of anger turn into the utter calm of her sorrow in the blink of an eye. “You have your music and mind magic, and then you pummel people. Kustil can track and sneak around supernaturally, and he has that ax and dirk, not to mention his deer thing.”

“You have your Macaw.” Tolva offered. 

“I know. He’s great, but it’s not the same. And then Ojawhe. He has all of that fire and spirit magic, plus he can heal. And then he attacks with that shield and levels anything close to him. All I have are my spells.” She pulled her knees to her chest, staring at the sword on the ground. “I just wanted to be like you guys.”

“Jessik, your magic is amazing. You can do so much more with it than the rest of us put together. The only thing Ojawhe can do that you can’t is heal people…when he remembers to.” They both chuckled. “But I know what you mean. It feels bad to not be able to do something that everyone else can do. But you have to try to be happy with what you provide, not focus on what you don’t provide.” She squeezed Jessik hard. “But if you truly want me to teach you to use the longsword, I will.” 

“Just, can we keep this between us?” Jessik asked as they stood up. “I…I don’t want them to be worried about me.” 

“No problem.” Tolva handed the sword to Jessik, “Now, let’s work on your grip first…”


	29. Transformation

Jessik felt happy with the new blade at her hip. After weeks of training, Tolva had said she was competent enough to carry the blade with her. Knowing she was going to have a sword, Jessik had looked up a few spells that required a sword to make it worth her learning to use the sword. When they had looted this sword from a bandit, Ojawhe and Kustil had been of a mind to sell it, as it was a well decorated sword. Jessik had been adamant that she kept it, and even offered to give up her share of the treasure. Personally, she was thankful they let her have it and her share of the treasure.

Ojawhe watched Jessik parade around like a peacock with the blade. She was so happy and couldn’t keep her hand off it, often stroking it to make sure it was real and revel in the tactile feel of the hilt. He had to smile at how happy she was with her sword. It was amusing. He hoped she would stick to her spells, as she was a much better caster than she ever would be a swordswoman. 

Jessik leaned out from cover and took a look at the scene. They had been investigating a cave near their new house for rumors of a new cult when they were ambushed. It seemed the rumors were true and the entire cult was ready to kill them. As normal, Ojawhe had taken point, with Tolva and Kustil flanking him and Jessik was left to take up the protected spot to unleash magic. It rankled that she was in the ‘safe’ spot, but it was what they had grown accustomed to. 

Seeing a large knot of attackers around Ojawhe, Jessik shot off a fireball. At the last moment, she remembered they were cultists of a fire elemental, and she changed the last few syllables of the spell. Rather than an explosive ball of fire, an eruption of frost sundered the air inside of the group. She knew Ojawhe had died to a White Dragon once, and since then had been partially immune to the effects of cold. 

After a few moments, all of the figures fell to the ground. Jessik’s eyes went wide as she realized she may have overdone it. Sprinting from cover, she ran over to him. Fumbling in her belt, she produced a flash and poured it down his throat. He sputtered, coming back to consciousness. 

A cackle caused her to look up. A knot of cultists were moving towards her, having cut her and Ojawhe off from Kustil and Tolva, who were dealing with a larger group. Jessik hurriedly pulled out her sword and held it in front of her as Ojawhe came back to consciousness. 

“Put that blade down and embrace the power of the flame.” One of the cultists said before sending a wave of flame to cover both of them. She looked back to see Ojawhe still struggling to get up. She needed to buy him time and get the cultists away from him. 

“Ojawhe, I learned this one for you.” With a quick motion, she casts Mordenkainen’s Transofrmation, turning her from a wizard to a swordswoman without peer. Smiling, she rushed forwards, the blade flicking in front of her. All who saw her saw this woman go from a humanoid into a whirling dervish of death. Spells and blades slashed in her direction, but none could see if any had any effect, she was moving too fast. 

Breathing hard, she looked around. All of the cultists were dead. Tolva and Kustil had finished off the majority of those left while Jessik had been slaughtering the remaining ones attacking her and Ojawhe. Running over, she dropped to her knees near Ojawhe’s head. Shaking him, she saw that he was still trying to regain his consciousness. 

Opening his eyes, he looked up at Jessik. “That’s nearly the third time I’ve died from cold.” She hugged him close.

“Well, you’re still alive, that’s what matters.” She whispered into his ear, dropping her sword next to him. He looked over her shoulder as he slowly embraced her. He saw all of the cut up cultists around him and the bloody blade Jessik just dropped.

“Did you do this?” He asked after a moment.

“I may have learned a little of the blade.” She murmured. “I just wanted to be as awesome as you guys.” Ojawhe looked at her, seeing how much she had changed from the fumbling wizard he had first met. 

“Well, I say you’ve done just that.” He smiled at her. “Just next time, not cold. I’m sick of frost.” She hugged him closer, the warmth of their bodies mingling together. “That works too.”


	30. Upper Planes

“Glimmer! Glimmer, where did you go?” Kustil shouted. He was wandering around the woods near their home. While it was normal for Glimmer to disappear for a day or two, it had been four days since they had last seen Glimmer and Kustil was getting worried. Jessik was currently scrying in her tower while Tolva and Ojawhe were helping him scour the woods. 

They had been searching for nearly six hours before Jessik contacted them via a group message. “I found her! You should come back, you aren’t going to find her there.” 

“Where is she?” The panic in Kustil’s voice was evident.

“She went home to Arcadia, at least I think it is home from the way she is interacting with the others. I think she it being kept there for some reason.” Jessik conveyed. 

“I can get us there through a gate.” Ojawhe’s calm voice slid into the mental call. “Meet at the house?” After a chorus of agreements, the call ended and they headed back to the house. It was a few hours later when they all returned. 

“Let’s go in the morning.” Jessik suggested, yawning. “I’m already in my night clothing and it didn’t look like she was in trouble. We should get something to eat and some sleep first.” 

The next day, they travelled through a gateway to Arcadia. None of them had ever been to any of the outer planes before…at least while alive. When they arrived, they looked at Ojawhe. “I have never been here, I never left the waiting area for my heaven when I died.” He turned to Jessik. “Can you tell where Glimmer is?” 

“Of course!” She smiled at them and led them off. The rest of them followed behind her, looking at the perfectly manicured orchards and gardens. Working in them were varied humanoid animals. The party slowed and stared, none of them ever having seen any of these types of humanoids. As they looked closer, they realized that while most of the creatures seemed to be animals made humanoid, some appeared to be humanoids that were turning into animals. 

An elf that was growing chitin walked up to them. “I know it can be overwhelming the first time you come here.” He smiled warmly at them. “Is there anything we can help you with?” He waved his hands, which were turning into pincers. 

The party floundered for a moment before Kustil replied. “I’m looking for my companion. She came here a few days ago. She is a Xernat by the name of Hzkad gal Ketzta.”

The elf-insect thought for a few moments. “I’ve never heard of that Xernat, but there is a small glade of them that way.” He pointed off in one direction. “About a few hours away from here.” Kustil thanked him and lead the way to where they had been directed. 

“Is that natural?” Tolva asked, pointing at the chitin.

“All of us who live here change into animals permanently. It is always the same animal, no matter who many times we visit. While most of the changes are not permanent, some will stay. Also, it does take some time to fully turn. I have been here three years.” He smiled. “I must get back to the orchard. Please, if you need anything more, just feel free to ask.”

They left the orchards and found themselves on what looked like an endless plains. The people here were no longer woodland creatures, but creatures of the plains instead. As they continued to what they saw was a large forest, they felt their bodies started to change. Tolva started chuckling as Jessik grew a pair of hare’s ears, fur silky smooth and silver in color. The laughing was cut off and transferred to Jessik as Tolva’s hands were turned into golden lion paws. The laughter turned into howling when Tolva started to bat her paws, trying to get them off.

Kustil squawked in surprise when his mouth and nose turned into a full beak of a bird of prey. He felt his beak and squawked again. “What’s happening?” He shouted, his voice higher pitched than normal. 

“I think this is an effect of the plane.” Ojawhe said, passive as his companions changed forms. “The plane is making us one of its denizens. We saw it with the elf earlier. However, I don’t think this will progress too much farther with how short a time we will be here.”

“Wait.” Tolva said after a few more minutes of walking. “Each of us had something change, but we haven’t seen anything about you change Ojawhe.” They all looked at him closely, trying to see anything different.

“Perhaps I am able to better resist the effects of the plane.” Ojawhe said, not looking any of them in the face.

“No, I don’t believe that.” Tolva chuckled, looking down at the right shorts he wore, the only article of clothing he often wore. “I think you know something has changed any you don’t want to say what it is.” Ojawhe kept looking forwards. “Maybe you don’t want to say it so you don’t scare a certain young wizard away from you.” It was then that Ojawhe started to blush, increasing his stride to get away from the larger orc. Tolva bellowed in laughter at his hasty retreat. “Come on, you know she wants to see it!”

“Hey, he can show me when he is ready.” Jessik chided Tolva, blushing a deep crimson. “Let’s just go help Glimmer. I want to forget this as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, I like my mouth the way it was, much better for drinking ale and kissing handsome strangers.” Kustil muttered.


	31. Wishes and Power Words

Mythol looked down at the prisoners arrayed before them. Four of them were bound, and two were gagged. The first one was an orc woman, towering in proportion but now cut and beaten into submission. A dwarf next to her was in worse shape, his beard and hair chopped and scraggly. A Genasi woman lay on the ground, barely conscious with even less clothing, the mark of fire all over her. The only one who seemed to be still defiant was the tiefling. Cuts and bruises covered his body, the tip of his tail cut off, and one of his horns cracked away. The fire still burned in his eyes as he glared at Mythol.

“I applaud your dedication to your cause.” Mythol’s voice drowned out the silence of the chamber. “Too bad it is futile to resist me. You may as well resist time itself.” They walked over to the teifling. “Now, answer my questions. Your friends have all given in, it is now time for you to give in too. Join them, and let me grant you your final rest.”

Ojawhe continued to stare at Mythol, the defiance burning in his eyes. Shaking their head, Mythol took the gag off Jessik. With one last look at Ojawhe, they spoke. “Pain.” With that word of power, Jessik started screaming in excruciating pain, her body writhing on the ground. “You can end her pain if you submit and declare your allegiance to my divinity.”

The three remaining prisoners cringed as Jessik’s wails assaulted their ears. Tears streamed from their eyes as they listened to their companion scream in pain. With a roar of rage, Tolva surged to her feet and charged at Mythol, gathering herself for a thunderwave.

“Stun.” Mythol’s voice was clear through the wails. Tolva found herself frozen, unable to move. “Didn’t I say it was futile to resist. You are only keeping your friend in pain.” Mythol’s voice was compelling, trying to force them into accepting their demands. 

Ojawhe closed his eyes, tears streaming from them for the first time since his family had died. Turning inwards, he sent up a prayer to his goddess. He asked for the power to save his friends. A voice answered him.

How do you want to save your friends? It spoke into his mind. ‘I want to kill this person, for everyone’s sake.’ Done. A word appeared in his mind. A word of power. All he had to do was to make sure he could say it. 

He looked Mythol in the eyes, holding their gaze for a moment before he dropped his head. Immediately, the screams stopped and turned into whimpers. Slowly, the clank of boots rang in the now empty, cavernous chamber. The ensorcelled steel boots stopped in front of Ojawhe. He felt the gag fall away and a steel hand clamp around his throat, lifting his small, five foot frame to look the six foot blackguard in the eyes. 

“Tell me, are you ready for forgo everything you have ever believed in to save this woman and claim your devotion to me?” Mythol tightened their grip around Ojawhe’s neck, showing how easily the tiefling’s life could be ended. “I am not a cruel master. You are all worthy opponents, and you will be given a special place in my new world. Now, tell me this is what you want.”

They let up enough on Ojawhe’s throat for him to speak. He thought back to the one word put into his mind. He had asked Hestia for power, but it was her brother, Hades, that had answered him in the end. Trusting that the dour god of the dead was not playing a trick on him, he spoke a work of mixed syllables, mostly consonants. As he did, he felt the power his wish had bequeathed him flow into the syllables. 

Mythol’s eyes widened in rage and shock, their hand closing and crushing Ojwahe’s windpipe. An instant later, the light left Mythol’s eyes and the body and armor collapsed to the ground. The body disintegrated into dust, leaving the armor behind. 

Gasping through a nearly crushed windpipe, Ojawhe crawled his way over to Jessik’s prone and shaking body. Pulling himself around so he could see her face, his heart broke as she shrunk away from him. It looked as if she had been tortured for years, not just seconds. The fear in here eyes pierced into him more than any of Mythol’s other attacks had. “Heal” Ojawhe croaked the word out, using the one word of power he had learned from his years of study. As he watched, all of the physical injuries healed and her body regenerated. The cloud of fear left her eyes, the magic amplifying her trauma being washed away by his word. 

Her purple eyes looked into his. A smile appeared on her face. “Thank you.” She whispered. He leaned forwards and placed his lips on hers, giving her a gentle and momentary kiss, before pulling away. Her hand shot out and grabbed his hair. “Don’t.” She pulled his head back, pressing their lips together. “Don’t pull away” She mumbled into his mouth.


End file.
